Spontaneous Homage No. 1

The surprise of them when they show up in your mailbox each month, a bright spot amid the pile of junk mail and bills ● The delight of them when you have an hour to while away at Barnes & Noble and they are lined up in their glossy covers, sorted by category, along an entire wall: the artsy, the seriously newsy, the celebrity trashy (ripe with gossip) and the celebrity chic (slick to the nth degree, every picture, every word) ● The knowing-just-what-you’re-going-to-get quality about them that is more than appealing on a day when your tastes are specific or time is at a premium ● The way the sheen of the paper makes the photos pop and the words come alive ● The lusts they inspire – for things as small as the perfect lipstick and as large as a private yacht – and the lusts they fulfill (to see the woman beautifully naked, the man handsomely attired, the way to make a croquembouche, the schematics for installing an automatic irrigation system in your greenhouse) ● The easy way they fold over at the spine so you can keep your page as you get up to fetch a second cup of coffee ● The equally easy way their pages tear out when you  want to save them in a file for later reference or tack one onto your refrigerator door for inspiration ● The way they are cheaper (far cheaper) by the dozen when you subscribe to them, and how they seem like a sweet indulgence (sweet because you haven’t gone overboard) when you pay a more princely sum at the newsstand because one has caught your eye (which they are rather good at doing – that is their strength, but also, that is to your advantage: how many things that catch your eye can you pick up so easily – no trying on for size, like clothes; no hangover effects and excess calories, like booze or food? No etc, etc, etc … I could go on but will stop now, in this, my little homage to the magazine).


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