Glossed Over

Cosmopolitan Doesn’t Want You to Die Alone

Most of the women I know who read Cosmopolitan say that it’s escapist entertainment—just a trifle to take their minds off everyday worries. I find that confounding, because not a month passes without a multi-page feature about how a young woman was murdered/raped/abducted/afflicted with an incurable disease—and how it could happen to anyone. Even you. Especially you!

The May issue fulfills this requirement with “Read This Before You Live Alone,” which begins soberly:

Life without roommates—for many young women, it’s near the top of their wish list. But living solo also can up your risk of break-ins and assaults.

Well, that seems perfectly reasonable. Safety is a major concern for most women, and we’ve been told our entire lives that being alone makes us more vulnerable.

But is that actually the case? Who knows? Although there are plenty of statistics about crimes against women in their homes included here, there isn’t a shred of evidence in the article that confirms women living alone are more likely to be victims.

And of the four victims mentioned, only one, TV anchor Anne Presley, is specifically described as having her own place.

…[Presley’s murder] implied a danger that confronts everyone—not just a semipublic figure—and perhaps single women living alone most of all. Rather than sharing an apartment with roommates, Anne was enjoying a life most women in their mid-20s lust after: She was rising in her career and successful enough to afford privacy.

What’s the implication here, Cosmo? That a woman must choose between financial success and personal security? There’s even an entire paragraph devoted to explanations that Presley lived in one of the “most affluent” neighborhoods in Little Rock, “not far from the Little Rock Country Club,” and surrounded by “wealthy neighbors.” Good luck, then, if you live in one of those “divey place[s] in a borderline neighborhood”!

Convinced to have roommates forever? Take a look at the next page:

5 Things Not to Put Off Until You’re In a Relationship

1.    Buying a home

Oh, so paying the mortgage alone doesn’t qualify you to live alone. Excellent.

Well, then, what is safe to do alone? In “50 Things to Do Naked,” the magazine suggests such life-affirming activities as watching Arrested Development on DVD, applying a deep-conditioning treatment, or arranging flowers while solo (and nude). Really.

In the event that moving some roses around in a vase doesn’t assuage your concerns, “Read This” does conclude with a helpful admonition:

One last thing: Don’t drive yourself crazy.

And that, at least, is easily accomplished. Step one: stop reading Cosmo.

Lowest Common Denominator: Cosmopolitan, March

1: Number of cover lines that made me cackle. “We are not kidding” is pure comedy

32: Page on which the word “shoegasm” appears

8: Actresses featured in “Red Carpet Confidence: Who Has It, Who’s Faking It”

Boundless: The inherent hypocrisy of a magazine that encourages its readers to be confident and then speculates about the confidence of celebrities. Does it serve any purpose to have a body-language expert declare that Renee Zellweger, Eva Mendes, and Brittany Snow appear uncomfortable in one particular red carpet photo?

59: Percent of men, according to “Guy Spy,” who “don’t want to know your nooky number”

6: Months I would like to travel back in time and use an assumed name to infiltrate Cosmo HQ and somehow prevent the term “nooky number” from ever appearing in print

$175: Retail price of a tank top deemed “cheap” on page 78

2: Number of pages between the $175 tank and “How to ‘Stretch’ Your Clothes,” which offers fashion-coping tips for those times “your checking account has taken a hit”

11: Number of “His Biggest Sex Secrets”

99.9: After reading “Is He Normal Down There?” and its incessant chorus of "it depends,” my inexpert estimate of the number of men who are, in fact, “normal down there”

13: Judging solely by the apparent necessity of using “down there,” the average age of Cosmopolitan readers

3: Assault and murder victims profiled in “The Hidden Work Danger”

Infinite: Locations where a woman can be brutalized by a man, according to “The Hidden Work Danger” and the psychopathic-behavior-of-the-month articles that appear in every single issue of this magazine

5: Bedtime rituals on page 164 that, claims Cosmo, will “keep you and your man connected”

2 weeks: Shelf life, approximate, of any relationship in which the participants need a women’s magazine to suggest that a kiss on the cheek might be a pleasant way to say good night

Onesie: Okay, it’s not exactly a number, but it is the name of a piece of clothing featured on page 173

2: Of the “45 Ways to Instantly Feel Sexy and Healthy,” number of tips which include the phrase “V zone”

Cosmpolitan's Confounding Ideas About Kink and Consent

I don’t often bother with Cosmopolitan’s “Red Hot Read,” an ostensibly sexy excerpt from a recently published novel, for two reasons: generally, more stimulating content can be found within an episode of Degrassi from 2004, and because Cosmo's reality is trying enough. I'm not really pining to know what Cosmo's editors fantasize about.

But because the January issue was atypically lacking in gag-inducing content (or perhaps I just wasn’t reading very closely), I waded through this month’s two-page excerpt from the forthcoming book Satisfaction by Marianne Stillings.

The result? I’m a little unsettled at what’s being passed off as the epitome of swept-away passion.

The novel's main character, Georgie, is a TV host who, for reasons left unexplicated in the text here, has the need for a full-time bodyguard. I’m guessing she’s incredibly beautiful and she’s being stalked by some kind of blandly dressed, asocial psycho who lives with his mother and believes he’s in love with her, because isn’t that usually the case?

Georgie and her guardian Ethan—who’s totally gorgeous, natch—are in a hotel bar for reasons beyond the scope of the excerpt (and perhaps beyond the scope of my comprehension). Our plucky heroine decides to return to her room, so jealous of the attention Ethan is attracting from other women that she’s willing to flounce off alone! Without protection! Ethan decides to escort her upstairs because, well, that’s what he’s getting paid for.

Here’s where it gets weird. Er, weirder:

“Thanks for everything,” she said, letting herself in. But as the door was about to shut, Ethan stepped in… He closed the door, locking it behind him. “I’m staying here tonight,” he said.

[Ethan claims the couch. Georgie goes to bed.]

Then the bed sank down. She turned to see Ethan sitting next to her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Don’t you know, Georgie?” he said, putting his hand on her cheek. “I want you. I have for a long time. I want to have sex with you. And I think you want the same thing.”

…Her pulse quickened, and she knew she should push him away. “Are you sure you want this?” she asked.

Wait, what? He’s climbing into her bed uninvited and she’s asking him for consent? Am I the only one who sees a problem here?

Oh, I forgot, his advances are totally justified. She had lustful thoughts about him, so he’s totally within his rights. After all, he’s almost certain that she feels the same way!

And anyway, says Cosmo, it's not like women are supposed to be in charge of any kind of bedroom action. In “Are You Crazy Enough in Bed?” on page 90, an expert opines:

But even guys who are kinkier sometimes don't like it when a woman kick-starts the action. “It seems that men want you to be open to experimentation in the bedroom when they suggest it, but they don't necessarily want you to initiate the wilder moves,” says Amy Levine, certified sexuality educator and founder of sexedsolutions.com. “Proposing anything that may appear choreographed can give them the impression that you've tried doing that with lots of other guys.”

So guys initiating sex (and somehow avoiding criminal charges) by climbing into bed uninvited? Hot! Women doing something that might make a man think she's ever been intimate with someone else? Not okay.

Cosmo, I will never understand you.

Cosmopolitan: Sports Fans, Prepare to Be Single Forever

This Saturday, as I have done most every Saturday this autumn, I spent three and a half hours watching football. (My team won!) Cosmopolitan would have me believe this is a bad thing.

In “Ask Him Anything” in the December issue, the magazine’s “guy guru” tackles a question from a reader who loves sports and hanging out with guys but can’t find love. What’s the problem, exactly? His answer:

Most men prefer women who paint their toenails, not their faces.

Because you can’t possibly be interested in both? And a man would never want to be with a woman who doesn’t use cosmetics at all?

We like being teased about our sports fandom and our excessive beer consumption, and we in turn (secretly) like the fact that girls enjoy more feminine pursuits like shopping or…even more shopping.

Speaking of football, I should probably get myself a helmet, because reading stuff like this makes me want to tackle someone. Where do I even start? The compilation of ludicrous assumptions in this statement is maddening. Let me see if I have this straight:

1. Shopping is inherently feminine.

2. Shopping is the sole thing women are capable of, apparently, since this guy can’t come up with a single other hobby that a woman might be interested in. Never mind that the pastimes enjoyed by women are often the same ones men like! And really, if this guy was just going to spout stereotypes, he couldn't come up with knitting? Yoga? Book group? Can we please get some credit for devoting brain cells to something other than our appearances?

3. Men do not enjoy shopping.

4. Women cannot enjoy both sports and shopping.

5. Men secretly approve of the very things they dismiss as feminine and therefore unworthy of their attention. I’m no psychiatrist, but I think any therapist would have a field day with that.

Common interests are terrific, and we’re psyched when you know what a touchdown is,

Mr. Answer Man is also psyched that his ladyfriend can, like, walk upright and sign her full name without checking her driver’s license.

but that doesn’t mean we want to high-five you every time our favorite team scores one.

…Just know that, contrary to what your buddies tell you, it might take a little longer to find that special someone while you’re waving a gigantic foam hand in the air.

Right, because there are no single men at football games and sports bars!

Just like different athletic leagues have different rules, everything changes once you manage to find a man who approves of your makeup-wearing, sports-shunning ways. When you’re in a committed relationship, says Cosmo, it’s time to give up the mall and settle in on autumn Saturdays and Sundays.

From “Smart Girlfriend Behavior: Do This, Not That” just twelve pages prior to “Ask Him Anything”:

Watch the game with his friends. Spending an afternoon on the couch with his pals says you’re easygoing and cool…and he’ll appreciate your making an effort to get to know his boys.

So watching the game isn't about doing something you enjoy—it's about making your man happy! The article goes on to advise against cheering loudly, chugging beer, and telling off-color jokes.

Let's put it this way: it's really hard for him to be sexually attracted to someone who reminds him of his buddies.

Clearly, Cosmo also thinks it’s impossible for him to be attracted to someone who shares his interests, skips makeup, or acts in any way like the people he spends most of his time with. No wonder Cosmopolitan is so obsessed with getting it on—from their perspective, sex is the only thing both men and women would be interested in.

Everything I Need to Know About Wasilla I Learned in a Women's Magazine

Never heard of Wasilla, Alaska, until a certain former mayor was vaulted to national prominence in August? Me neither! Ever anticipating our needs, the magazines have stepped up to fill in the gaps in our collective knowledge about the town and its most famous resident. According to this month’s issues, here’s what Wasilla is all about:

• Marie Claire features a Wasilla native in its “Savvy Girl’s Guide to Surviving a Reunion.” According to writer Michelle Tolan, the town is cold, wet, and packed with teens who enjoy deep-sea fishing. Tolan says “growing up in an unforgiving wilderness” shaped her and her classmates into “tenacious, spirited adults.” Which is great and all, even if she didn’t mention whether being able to see Russia affected their development.

• In Cosmopolitan’s “The Hot Bachelors of 2008,” Alaska’s representative is a brown-haired guy named Levi who hails from Wasilla. No, not that one.

• And in Glamour, which is where the image on the right appeared, Governor Palin’s sister Heather Bruce sits for an interview in “I Never Thought I’d Say, ‘My Sister, the Vice President.’” In this article, it’s clear that Wasilla isn’t that removed from the rest of the world: the veep nominee and her sister saw enough bad TV to learn the trick of taping off individual portions of their shared bedroom. Hmm, early evidence of isolationism?

Cougars, Conrad, and Calories: Another Wince-Worthy Cosmopolitan Cover

Dear Cosmopolitan,

Congratulations! Just when I think I couldn’t possibly be more ashamed of spending my cash on your latest issue, you manage to prove me wrong! You know, I see the guy at my newsstand more often than I see most of my friends, so it would be awesome if you could turn down the blatant lechery just a notch so that I could preserve one minuscule shred of dignity.

I’m not going to protest the celeb on your November cover—this time. While I think Lauren Conrad gets way more credit than she merits (a book deal?), I can’t fault her for exploiting every opportunity that’s come her way. Plus she appears to have some life goals other than being photographed at Kitson every day, unlike the squirelly duo of her erstwhile best friend and the friend’s male counterpart, and I’ve already conceded to knowing way more about The Hills than I care to admit in public,  so I’m going to change subjects now.

On to the truly cringe-inducing elements of the November cover:

• “Bad Girl Sex”: Who are we kidding here? The suggestion to turn your body into a naked sushi buffet (that’s not a euphemism) isn’t “bad girl”—it’s just bad.

• “Lose Weight While You Eat”: Sure! I’m so desperate to drop pounds that I’ll believe anything!

•“The Surprising Touch That Whips a Guy on Date #1”: Oh, I get it. Controlling a man with threats of withholding sex is a real achievement. (That might be my age speaking, though. Unlike many of Cosmo’s readers, I’ve been out of high school for a while.)

• “Am I Normal Down There?”: Guess what? Yes! I am, and you are, and so is everyone else! I may not have any formal medical training, but I can say that with certainty, as can anyone who’s ever flipped through an issue of Seventeen.

• “A Cougar Stole My Man”: Because, you know, men are possessions that can just be snatched away! I actually flipped to this article—you know, morbid curiosity—and one of the alleged man-stealing “cougars” is 35. 35! Cosmo, can you get together with the other members of the women’s magazine cabal and get it straight? Am I supposed to think 30 is the new 20 or that 35-year-olds are so wizened they couldn’t possibly attract a man in his twenties?

Anyway, Cosmo, you’ll notice that I still forked over $4.29. You win this round, but I’m ready for a rematch next month.

Love,

Glossed Over

Working Girl Wednesdays: A Retrospective

At last, we’ve wrapped up our journey to the world of working women in 1964. Sure, Sex and the Office was rather ridiculous, but it was also delivered a healthy dose of perspective. Aren’t you glad to live in an era where sexual harassment laws exist and women don’t have to justify working outside the home?

Here’s a brief review of the many lessons Helen Gurley Brown imparted. Hey, you never know when you’ll have a chance to time travel!

• How to love a boss—even if that boss is (gasp!) female! (The advice on how to, ahem, love a boss comes later.)

• Why showing generous amounts of cleavage is a savvy negotiation strategy

• The best way to manage a 16-step makeup regimen—for work

• Why “a retarded beginning” is, in fact, a good thing

• Flattery will get you everywhere

• Guaranteed conversational techniques to land a job without ever discussing your career

• Lunch breaks are so complex they require three whole chapters encompassing food, sex, and even more sex

• Drinking alcohol at work is completely justifiable

• Bilking your company when you travel for business is easy!

• Advanced techniques for convincing men to pay your way

• There’s no excuse for rebuffing a co-worker’s advances

• Apparently, the women of the early 1960s enjoyed a beating

• Five words: “Him heap big man inside”

• How to launch a career as a real working girl

• Why women should thank their husbands for letting them hold a job

• How to pick Jewish people out of a crowd

Next week, Working Girl Wednesdays will morph into…Wintour Wednesdays. I’ll be dishing the juicy details of Anna Wintour’s life, courtesy of Jerry Oppenheimer’s biography Front Row—Anna Wintour: What Lies Beneath the Chic Exterior of Vogue’s Editor in Chief.

Not surprisingly, Wintour’s childhood concerns haven’t changed much. For instance, at age ten, Wintour was told she was a gifted runner who could eventually be an Olympic-level competitor. Her response: “How frightful! What on earth will happen to my legs?”

Next week: is it possible Anna Wintour has never eaten a full meal in the presence of another human being?

Working Girl Wednesdays: "An Abiding Love for Girls Who Work and All the Men Who Protect Them"

Welcome to Working Girl Wednesdays! Need advice on handling the complexities of the modern workplace? Well, fret no more! Whether it’s a senior partner making a move or a catty co-worker plotting for your plum position, Helen Gurley Brown’s 1964 book Sex and the Office has a solution. Every Wednesday on Glossed Over, I’ll present a new tip from the legendary editor of Cosmopolitan. Is her advice utterly ridiculous or startlingly prescient? You decide!

Alas, we’ve reached the final chapter of Sex and the Office. Dubbed “The Perils of Little Helen,” it covers the personal experiences that allowed HGB to become an expert on all things work-related. For instance, she once received this bit of advice:

Mr. Paul Ziffren was also smart (he later became head of the Democratic Party in California), and he taught me several very smart things. If you want somebody to think you’re lying, for instance, just tell the truth, he said. They’ll say, “Where were you last night?” You answer, “I was so drunk I had to sleep in the back of my car.” They will then say, “Come on now, where were you really?”

Working as a secretary also taught her to deal with, er, difficult people:

Mr. Winston (which was almost his name) hated Communists, Catholics, ostentation, Roosevelt (even though the man had graciously obliged him by dying), noise of any kind before lunchtime, and Jews. He hated all these things pretty vehemently, but most of all he hated Jews. It was really kind of pathetic, because the poor darling had, incredibly, constructed a motion picture studio with many sound stages right in the heart of Hollywood, not realizing until it was built that the entertainment business was larded with his least favorite people.

…My one big problem in making good was in learning to hate Jews. I couldn’t tell who was Jewish. Mother never told me I was different. In Little Rock where I grew up everybody was too busy with lynchings and all that to get around to Jews… My roommate Barbara, who was half-Jewish, tried to help… “See my eyes,” Barbara would say. “Jewish eyes are sort of big and brown and terribly sad.”… We decided we needed outsiders to practice on, and wherever we went, Barbara would scout Jews and I would study them.

I explained to Mr. W… “My god,” he said. “My God! My own secretary in a hotbed of them! This is what comes from not having you investigated…I just never dreamed the agency would send me a…a…a Jew-lover!”

Because of my first-rate gossip perhaps, or maybe because I was mouse-quiet, Mr. W. decided to save me from the ovens.

The ovens! Ha! Because getting fired is totally comparable to the Holocaust!

Here’s yet another man you’d never want to work for:

Mr. Gross, as it turned out, didn’t put people in jars and snuff out their lights. He shell-shocked them. Though I hadn’t noticed a single gun around the place during my interview, whenever a group of us went to call on Mr. Gross we never knew whether we would be fired on by a short-barrel Luger or a Smith & Wesson revolver. “Got a new gun,” Mr. Gross would announce in the middle of a spring shade presentation. Then he would point it straight at the account executive’s head and fire. We just had to trust that he would continue to use blanks.

And finally, I reached the “About the Author” page, which includes this crucial autobiographical detail:

She is five feet four and a half inches tall, has brown hair and brown eyes, a sultry voice, a twenty-two-inch waist, an abiding love for and faith in single girls, girls who work and all the men who protect them.

Next week: a look back at the wisdom of Sex and the Office and an introduction to our next book. Is there a magazine-related book you’d like to see excerpted here? Let me know in the comments!

Cosmopolitan: The Magazine for Fun, Fearless, Female Food Shoppers

Turns out that magazines haven’t always existed solely for the purpose of selling designer fashions and high-end cosmetics. Just nine years ago, one magazine tried to use its clout to sell dairy products!

Really.

In 1999, Cosmopolitan launched a line of low-fat yogurt and cheese in the UK. Why attach the Cosmo name to food? According to a survey, 65 percent of Britons had used edibles in the bedroom. Cosmo is, obviously, associated with sex. Hence the totally logical conclusion that linking food and sex would be the best way to flog a new range of milk-based products. 

Perhaps the survey didn’t indicate what kinds of foods the Brits were including in their amorous activities. Forgive my naiveté, but is anyone taking a wedge of cheddar into the bedroom?

Apparently not! Within 18 months, the line was deemed a failure.

Cosmopolitan may no longer be pushing food, but one aspect remains consistent: they were pushing expensive stuff. The yogurts, intended to be “sophisticated and aspirational,” were priced higher than competing brands.

Hat tip to my brilliant sister-in-law for the story. Thanks, Caryn! Photo from BrandGym on Flickr.

Working Girl Wednesdays: "Being a Career Girl Kept Me From Visiting a Psychiatrist"

Welcome to Working Girl Wednesdays! Need advice on handling the complexities of the modern workplace? Well, fret no more! Whether it’s a senior partner making a move or a catty co-worker plotting for your plum position, Helen Gurley Brown’s 1964 book Sex and the Office has a solution. Every Wednesday on Glossed Over, I’ll present a new tip from the legendary editor of Cosmopolitan. Is her advice utterly ridiculous or startlingly prescient? You decide!

In “Come Back Little Wives, Widows, Divorcees,” HGB finds two working mothers to tell their stories—in their own words, as she dutifully reminds readers more than once. This is Sally, an executive secretary, on whether men should do housework:

Not everybody agrees with me, but I don’t think the husband of a working wife should ever do domestic chores. They rob him of his manliness and diminish his role as master. Carl has never helped with dishes, errands, or marketing, and I’ve never encouraged him to. I’m so grateful he doesn’t object to my working that I feel one way I can repay him is by spoiling him at home—just as he’d be spoiled if I were there all day.

Newspaper editor Christine discusses a lesser-known benefit of working:

As to what the neighbors say about my working, I tell the catty ones who imply I’m neglecting my family that I don’t coffee-klatch, bowl, play bridge or golf. Most women I know spend more time doing those things than I do on the job. There are the “friends,” of course who wait for you to slip—when you say, “I wish I could get to cleaning out the linen closet,” they say, “Well, when mothers go to work in an office…” their voices trailing off as though they’d just mentioned an unmentionable disease. I’ve learned to recognize and discount the signs of jealousy because I have left the kitchen sink and it’s still headquarters for them. I stoically resist mentioning that my being a part-time career girl may just possibly have kept me from visiting their psychiatrists.

Finally, Helen Gurley Brown offers advice to wives looking to enter the workforce. One of her tips:

Don’t be apologetic about being out of your twenties. A man may tell the personnel office to send him a cutiepie with a thirty-eight bust measurement, but he usually settles for less. A woman over thirty-five (age, that is) who is chic and cute and prompt and quiet and energetic can become the love of a businessman’s life.

Next week: a peek at HGB’s “office life”—in her own words!