Magazines became a part of my being at age 11 when I decided I wanted a haircut, a short one. My mom is a beautician, but trained in the 60’s, she was more comfortable with beehives & back-combs. So she bought me my first fashion magazine ever. Seventeen magazine. I was hooked. At eleven. So many things to see, to learn, to want to be. And I found a haircut.
I craved every new issue—I think I still have the one with Whitney Houston (as a model) on the cover, eating a giant ice cream cone & wearing a sweater dress whose pattern was in the magazine (did I mention this was like 1982? And no, even though I begged, my grandma would not knit me the dress, as I was only 12, not 17).
By high school, it was Seventeen, Teen, YM (sometimes, not a huge fan), & the queen of teen mags, Sassy. How unbelievably crushed was I when it disappeared. How could I go on without Sassy’s witty commentary & solid advice? But go on I did.
To college, where I had now enlisted the likes of Details, Elle, Vogue, Bazaar, Interview, & Mirabella. The occasional splurge of British or Italian Vogue might cause me to skip a meal or two, but it was so worth it. I lived through those pages, shaping my world, what I would someday surround myself with, after this collegiate journey. Then, no Mirabella. Gone. The way of Sassy. It’s existence as ethereal as the images by Paolo Roversi. I was sad.
Then came Martha. Martha Kids. Martha Baby. And Real Simple. And Country Living. And Domino. Blueprint. Cookie. Wondertime. I had a lot of reading to do! But each one brought something different, something essential. There were piles in the car, while I waited at preschool. The reason my purse is as big as I am—to carry mags, of course. Oh, I must mention here that I also keep many of these. Forever. Not in a weird, stepping over piles in my house way, but in a necessary, these magazines contain a world of important images, articles, and inspiration that I might well need someday way.
And thank goodness I did. Because so many of them are now gone. And I can honestly say that for a time, like after I realized there would be no more Blueprint, no more Domino — ever — I wondered how I would ever find that collection of visual inspiration in my life. It felt like something was dying.
Enter blogs. Without realizing it, they had slowly begun to take magazines’ place in my world. First, Design Mom. Then Oh Happy Day. Then A Cup of Jo. Black Eiffel. Bloesem. Inchmark. Katie did. Simple Lovely. Twig & thistle. Heather Ross. Simply Photo. The list grows every day. All of these amazing visionary women. To you I must say: thank you. You have given back a part of me.