Read

It is unabashedly pretentious, clearly elitist, full of ads, and lacks any advice on how to “Learn the 10 New Moves that Will Drive Him Crazy”, but I love Vogue Magazine. I do not know any of the socialites on the pages, I do not recognize any designer names but the main stream ones, and my wardrobe is full of articles of clothing that even my husband has asked me to stop wearing. Even so, with all of my frugal tendencies that will not even allow me to buy Chapstick, I am willing to slap down $3.50 for a magazine that is 60% full of ads for products I will never buy.

It is escapism, visually and mentally. The locations they shoot on; the perfectly put together outfits; the decorating in homes of the artists, the famous, and other cultural persons they highlight. It sells a picture of someone’s ideal that is somehow my ideal as well. I could piece together my perfect life from those pages.

But I do not just look at it, I read it as well. Much in the same way most men read Playboy for the articles. The writers are by no means revealing state secrets, for example: I have read articles on the supposed ‘return’ of ¾ sleeve dresses and the trend of the rich and famous cutting their hair to shoulder length. Yes, I have wasted precious moments of my life on these little gems of knowledge.

But at the same time, I found out about the play Avenue Q (Broadway’s raunchy take on Sesame Street) and a couple of really good movies. I have also read about a near extinct type of apple that has supposed superior anti-aging qualities. (Apparently they taste really bad, but people used to eat them in the pre-refrigeration periods because they would not rot).

I know the magazine is a vice. The models are too thin and too ethnocentric, the clothes are too expensive. If you totaled the sum of the cost of every item in just one issue I’m sure you could solve more than a few social problems (you know, "for just $1 a day you could feed a child in Tanzania”). It is a guilty pleasure I suppose, but one I embrace. After all, if I cannot bring myself to buy a $1.95 tube of lip balm that I can use, I might was well spend $3.50 on a magazine advertizing a $1,195 umbrella.