Glossed Over

Lucky's First-Ever Music Issue: Only Years After Everyone Else's

Lucky's August edition is the magazine's first-ever music issue. They're calling Kelly Clarkson "adorable," which is a suspiciously non-effusive word for the magazine that called Rachel Bilson a "sartorial Einstein." I mean, how high is the bar here? 

Anyway, since this is the music issue, I'll relay my thoughts in the lyrics of Nada Surf's 1996 hit song, "Popular":

Lucky, "You're so novel. What a good idea."

Really! It's a fantastic idea! It's so good, in fact, that several other women's magazines already do it. For instance, Self. 

And Elle. 

Also Nylon. 

And W.

Oh, and Marie Claire. 

But surely such blatant copying was intentional, right? After all, none of those other magazines is rumored to be going digital-only. So I can only assume that the music issue concept is focus group-approved, advertiser-tested, and a last-ditch effort at raking in some sweet ad cash before Conde Nast lowers the hammer. See you in the fall, Lucky! Maybe! 

Listen Up, Internet: I Am Not Jean Godfrey-June

Here's a statement I never thought I'd have to make:

I am not Jean Godfrey-June. 

Recently I've been flooded with emails from shoddy internet marketers who apparently believe I am the beauty director of Lucky. They send messages titled "Jean Godfrey-June"—nothing conveys credibility like the recipient's full name in the subject line!—and offer services like $500 a month PR packages, help with Quickbooks, and "5 guaranteed interviews with press a month." Seems legitimate!

How do these shady people confuse me with Jean Godfrey-June? Google results, I guess. (Google gives me Godfrey-June's Twitter first, a Gothamist post from 2006 next, and this site third.)

But never mind that my name is on this site. Is it really so difficult to determine that a blog where Jean Godfrey-June's writing skills are impugned, her book mocked, and her ability to do her job is questioned probably does not belong to Jean Godfrey-June? I guess so!

Maybe I should put my name here in 48-pt bold type to prevent confusion. Or maybe I should just change my name to, I don't know, Gene Joffrey-July and find a job where I write meandering personal anecdotes about solid perfume and get disparaged on the internet by frustrated bloggers. Then maybe—maybe!—there'd be grounds for confusion.

For future email entrepreneurs who stumble upon this site and somehow think "Wendy Felton" and years of perhaps unjustifiably angry screeds are secret code for "Jean Godfrey-June," I have three things to say to you:

1. I am not Jean Godfrey-June.

2. If you had half the intelligence of the paper that Lucky is printed on, you’d have figured that out. Yet you continue to hit send on these emails. Which can only mean one thing:

3. You are all idiots.

Springing Forward with Six New Magazine Covers

Hi. It's been a while since I've been here. That's because I've been having a tremendous New York depression adventure!

But these new issues—well, their covers—are forcing me out of my silence. I mean, have you seen these things? So I'm going to write brief, snarky comments about a few covers, and I'll hope you'll humor me by pretending this is a real post. Cool?

Lucky

Perhaps it's because of my advanced age, but I do not aspire to look "So. Damn. Cute." You know who is "so. damn. cute."? My cat. Except I would say "so damn cute," because that thing with the periods was over in like 2009.

Glamour

Hunger Games and "Acne Smackdown": is Glamour going for the teens? Kudos to the Glamour staff for finding an actress whose face hasn't yet adorned a million glossies (ahem, InStyle); no kudos for the word "ballsy." Bravery has no genitals!

Cosmopolitan

You get the feeling Cosmopolitan would have stuck that pink "25 Fun, Free Dates" bubble right over Megan Fox's face if they thought they could get away with it. Way, way too much going on here, and it's all distracting me from what really matters, which is—duh!—trying to figure out who has the hottest butt in Hollywood. 

Bazaar

Three things:
1. Angelina Jolie did it better.
2. What better way to exemplify "Fabulous at every age" than by putting a 28-year-old on the cover?
3. I really hope "10 New Looks that Matter" includes an explanation of why they matter, because that will probably be the most hilarious thing I read all year.

Elle

I like to think I speak for the entire world when I say, "Was this really necessary?"

It's not that pregnant women aren't lovely or that they shouldn't be on magazine covers. It's that this pose has been done to death. It's that a pregnant woman posing nude feels remarkably similar to plus-size models posing nude, which is itself an uncomfortable mélange of sexualization and stylists just throwing up their hands in frustration. It's that fashion magazines apparently live in a world where clothes for non-sample-sized women just don't exist—except, oh look, they do! Which means this cover is really just another naked, Photoshopped female body on display in a cynical ploy for cash. 

I do, however, admire the juxtaposition of "Change your look instantly" with Simpson's burgeoning belly, because hello! Pregnancy is a great way to change your look. You know, when eye shadow and some new shoes just won't do...

(If your blood pressure can handle reading a more serious—but still snarky!—take on this cover, I liked this Dallas Observer post.)

And finally:

InStyle

Have you ever thought, "Gosh, I wish there were a major media outlet covering that little-known actress Jennifer Aniston. What's up with her love life? Does she work out? I wonder if she has opinions about those popular denim trousers!" I sure haven't, but apparently those people exist and they're buying this issue. I will not be among them.

What do you think about these covers? Anything good inside these issues?

Lowest Common Denominator: Lucky, September

981: According to the cover, the number of “ways to look amazing this season”

Gazillions: Approximate number of words in this issue. For better or worse (and, in the case of the never-ending article about drunk shopping, it’s definitely worse), there is now actual text in this magazine.

24: Items retailing for less than $50 featured in “Classic Pieces for Every Day”

116: Page on which Jessica Alba’s “Post-Baby Shape-Up Plan” appears, almost entirely devoid of context. I know Lucky is new to this whole writing-complete-sentences-and-forming-paragraphs thing, but they couldn’t follow up on Alba’s statement that she drinks a lot of water because she’s “starving”?

$60: As listed in “City Guide,” the price of a “Carrie Bradshaw-style pink tutu” sold by a store in Los Angeles, like a “Carrie Bradshaw-style” anything is a good thing.

$375: Price of a satchel that is, according to “How To: Wear Color,” the “easiest way to add a shot of color.” 

Zero: Explanation of how “easy” it is to spend $375 on a neon bag.

1, apparently: Words left out of the headline “Dress Like a French Girl. No, Really, a Real French Girl.” That word? “Wealthy,” unless it’s being French that somehow enables one to purchase a $550 dress and an $860 jacket. In which case, vive la France!

$250: Price of a cat-ear hood that Lucky suggests wearing “with a dose of irony, for the downtown hipster.” Behold the amazingly awkward exchange that ensued when I tweeted @LuckyMagazine about this ridiculous headgear! Veronica, aka @duncandesign, joined in to keep the conversation on track.

3: “Stylish New Yorkers” plucked from “the sidewalks of Soho” to model fall fashions in “Style on the Street.”

100: Percent of those random New Yorkers who are conventionally slim and pretty! Surprise!

Not 2: According to Jean Godfrey-June, the number of people permitted in the dressing rooms at Gilly & Hicks, Abercrombie & Fitch’s lingerie store. She says:

(You can’t both go in [the dressing room]; the surroundings are so...provocative...that liaisons are rumored to have occurred in the dressing rooms, hence, a ban.)

Infinitely: How weird it is that Godfrey-June would mention this, considering that in the story she’s shopping with her daughter.

2: Cover lines on the issue of Lucky Kids stuck inside the back cover that are uncomfortably reminiscent of the controversy over 10-year-old model Thylane Blondeau: “Dresses So Pretty You’ll Wish They Came in Your Size” and “I Want My Kid’s Hair Color!” (Related reading: this article about fashion brands using child models to normalize eating disorders.)

0: Interest I had in pulling Lucky Kids out of the magazine--until I needed something to shield my laptop with during a sudden downpour. 

Magazine Masochism: Reading Lucky's May Issue

When I was sixteen, I went with two friends to see Merchant-Ivory’s The Remains of the Day. It was a poor choice for three teenagers shit-faced on Sour Patch Kids: much of the subtle period drama was lost on us. We sat in stunned silence until the end, when one of my friends turned to me in the dark and blurted, “WHAT WAS THAT?” 

That’s how I felt reading the May edition of Lucky. Admittedly, this most crass of magazines is nothing like the nuanced film. But my reaction to this issue was the same as my friend’s to the movie.

Everything about this issue just seemed off. I mean, exclamations like “best doorknob accessory ever!” (page 132) technically make sense, even if decorating doorknobs, let alone determining what sort of overpriced trinket could be crowned the best doorknob ornament ever, never occurred to me. Am I supposed to care about this stuff?

And sure, there’s at least one office on the planet where the denim blazer and yellow micro-shorts pictured in “Four Girls, One Lace Top,” deemed “perfect for work” by accessories designer Meghan Asha, are actually appropriate. That workplace is probably Lucky HQ, but it still counts, right?

But my most profound confusion came from the cover. Check out the lower right-hand corner: this image, from the Lucky Facebook page, says “Dress for Curves: Ginnifer Goodwin shares her styling know-how.” My newsstand copy says:

How to Dress for Curves by Ginnifer Goodwin

OH COME ON. Even allowing that “curvy” is a completely meaningless word, how on earth is Ginnifer Goodwin an expert on this?

Let’s go to the text! From “Southern Comfort,” page 58:

Goodwin’s comfort with her curves [this is where I paused to inspect the three photos of Goodwin on page 66 all Sherlock Holmes-like, seeking evidence of said curves] is largely due to her stylist, Penny Lovell, who introduced the star to tailoring. “I’m three different sizes,” says Goodwin, gesturing to her tiny waist, narrow shoulders and what she calls her “womanly” hips. “I buy things that are big and tailor them down.”

Where do I even begin?

First: Goodwin came to terms with her body “due to her stylist”? How fortunate for her! How unfortunate for the rest of us!

Secondly: being three different sizes doesn’t necessarily mean you’re curvy. It means you’re not a dressmaker’s mannequin. This is not an affliction limited to one particular body type, as anyone who’s tried on a Go International dress at Target well knows.

Next: Your hips are “womanly” because you’re a woman. They’re supposed to be that way.

Finally: Buying clothes to fit the largest part of your body and tailoring them down? This is neither revelatory advice (especially not to anyone who’s seen a single episode of What Not to Wear), nor is it exactly dressing to flatter your body. Also, it’s an utterly unhelpful tip if you’re a discount shopper. If I have to spend an additional $40 to tailor a pair of Gap pants, then I probably can’t afford them.

Now that her clothes fit better, Goodwin is braver about fashion… “Things look better when I embrace my body.”

Aw, what a lovely sentiment! Not so lovely? After recommending a Memphis specialty chocolate store, Goodwin says this:

“If I lived here, I’d be an elephant!”

Yeah, I’m having a little trouble reconciling all the curve-loving euphoria in the previous paragraphs with dehumanizing garbage like this. Eating chocolate—even eating chocolate every day—might make you heavier. It will not make you an elephant. People who weigh more than Ginnifer Goodwin are not the world’s largest land mammals.

The Goodwin article comes to an all-too-merciful end shortly thereafter, but I could go on for hours about this issue. There are the reader quotes that sound exactly like everything else in the magazine. There’s the “smoky-wood-floor” scent Jean Godfrey June describes. There’s the fact that a gainfully employed copyeditor considers “retro-ifies” a valid word, because it appears on page 112. And there’s my growing suspicion that only people with tons of money and zero taste could enjoy this magazine.

By the time I reached the final page, I was cranky, exhausted by the lengthy strings of hyphenated descriptors, and just plain numb. Lucky, please explain yourself: WHAT WAS THAT?

Un-Lucky Break for Kim France: She's Out, Holley's In

It was announced this morning that Brandon Holley will replace Kim France as the editor-in-chief at Lucky. France is leaving Conde Nast altogether, according to a press release posted at Business Insider. Holley is currently editor of Yahoo!'s Shine and formerly was the top editor at Jane and ELLEgirl.

Jane's demise was attributed in part to its failure to attract high-end advertisers, a condition aggravated by the magazine's editorial focus on smaller designers and mass-market brands. As much as Lucky has veered toward pricey merchandise in recent years, it's still no Vogue.

Under its new leadership, will Lucky become even more inaccessible in order to meet this challenge? Why is France leaving? And can she take Jean Godfrey-June with her? Hey, internet, we need answers! (In the meantime, speculation is welcome.)

Jessica Simpson Gets Lucky, Learns to Love Herself

I’m almost ashamed to admit this publicly, but I was actually intrigued by this cover line on the September issue of Lucky:

Jessica Simpson on finally loving her body

The celebrity-learns-to-love-herself tale is a tough sell. On the one hand: isn't appearing on magazine covers confirmation enough that you've conformed to society's beauty standards? Am I really supposed to empathize—or worse, sympathize—with the skinny woman with flawless skin smiling at me from the pages of Lucky? On the other hand: the fame that lands stars in magazines also leads to unwarranted scrutiny, like the massive uproar Simpson faced when she had the audacity to go on stage in a pair of high-waisted jeans. No one cares if I show up to work with a fresh pimple and undereye bags (which—heads up, co-workers!—I totally will be tomorrow), but the bar is set much higher for celebrities.

How does Lucky address Simpson's transformation?

She stopped fighting her hourglass silhouette, for instance, after realizing that “we all obsess over looking like the perfect Barbie type, and that’s not always what’s beautiful. It’s about making peace with yourself.”

Which is great and all, but I think the key point here is not that she arrived at that conclusion, but how she got there. How did she make peace with herself? Therapy? Yoga? Perhaps a steadfast refusal to read women’s magazines?

This sea change came out of her globe-spanning journey for her VH1 show, The Price of Beauty—a trip that also provided the tools to diversify her wardrobe.

Because, you know, picking up some accessories is totally on par with learning to love yourself. That is one twisted sentence, Lucky.

The paragraph goes on to list exactly what J. Simps found so compelling about foreign cultures, and her highlights are exactly what you’d expect: Bright colors! Caftans! Bangle bracelets! Which means all that gallivanting could have been scrapped in favor of a trip to the local newsstand, because brights, bangles, and caftans are exactly what every fashion editor in the history of women’s magazines considers “exotic.”

There are precious few other details to parse—are we to believe that Jessica learned to love her body because of the caftans she so admired in Morocco?  Who knows? Instead we get another reinforcement of the Eat Pray Love-style message that empowerment is best acquired via globe-trotting. I don’t mean to downplay the powerful shift in perspective that international travel can provide. But neither should we codify a privileged traipse through India or Morocco or Bali as a surefire remedy for flagging self-esteem. Such messages only reinforce the consumerist lifestyle magazines promote to begin with—that happiness and beauty are best achieved by spending money.

It wouldn't be fair to expect Jessica Simpson to serve as the female paragon of healthy self-esteem and cultural sensitivity. (Although there is an interesting discussion to be had on that topic, particularly if you want to consider where the $98 shoes bearing her name are manufactured, and whether she visited that country on her show.) But by twisting “Jessica Simpson loves her shape” into “Jessica Simpson went around the world for a TV show and ended up with an awesome wardrobe,” Lucky’s turned self-acceptance into a trip precious few of us will ever take.

Lowest Common Denominator: Lucky, October

1: Estimated number of photos shot of Kristen Bell for the cover. Why would they use this awkward-looking one if they had any others?

10: Days’ worth of foundation Estee Lauder will supply for free, according to their ad, which also notes that the makeup must be “right for the way you live”

Under 20: Approximate number of remaining celebrities without their own fragrance collections now that Kat Von D has one (advertised on page 56)

$2,495: Price of a Chanel bag featured in “Lucky Editors Answer: What’s your no-apologies splurge?” Also, note how Lucky makes it sound like buying a Chanel purse is an act of self-empowerment. Because you need a designer bag to fulfill your potential as a human being!

80: Page on which editor Jenny Kang describes the “corpse bride” as her fashion inspiration in “What I Want Now”

All of them: Individual hairs on my head I will remove in frustration if a fashion magazine glamorizes death one more time

$79, $50, and $30: The actually affordable price tags of the jeans Lucky calls “affordable” on page 92

100: Page which recommends a $23 skort from Land’s End

6,731: Since reading that, instances I've wondered whether we're really doing skorts again, and if so, WHY?

4,529,023: Including the one on page 132, estimated number of mentions on Cover Girl’s Outlast lipstain pen in women’s magazines in the last few months

2: Number of Cover Girl lipstains I’ve purchased in those same months

“Lots”: According to photographer Mario Testino, the amount of “very good sex” model Carmen Kass has enjoyed. Jean Godfrey-June reports that Testino reportedly described Kass to Michael Kors by saying, “Zees leg…you only get a leg like zees by having lots of very good sex.”

3: Products required to create the “disheveled ponytail” in “Hair Styles We Love Now”

$575: Price of a purse Lucky describes as “so rich” on page 160

Not a single bit: Discretion about advertorial displayed by placing an ad for the YSL fragrance Parisienne in the middle of a spread about Parisian style. Subtle!

A Sticky Situation in Lucky's September Issue

In its patriotic mission to stimulate the economy, Lucky does everything it can to make shopping easier for the few, the proud, the misanthropes who detest malls, and the between-sizes Americans prone to fitting-room meltdowns. With the stickers marked “YES!” and “MAYBE?” in every issue, vicarious shopping has never been easier! 

This month, instead of tearing out the stickers to annotate a publication with actual paragraphs (like, say, a book), I actually affixed them to the magazine's comparatively noteworthy pages. And in my mission to help you avoid “reading” Lucky, here's what I culled from the September issue:

YES! I may need the entirety of Anna Sui’s Gossip Girl-inspired collection for Target, now that I’ve seen the two-page ad near the front of this issue. Unchecked spending on stuff I don’t need makes me a good American, right?

YES! Just as expected, Kim France’s “Editor’s Letter” does acknowledge the crummy financial climate, but adds that “against all odds,” the magazine’s fashion editors found plenty of great stuff for fall. Such sacrifice!

YES! Lucky continues its slaughter of the English language on page 94, trotting out the non-word “splurgier.” Are there fuses in my brain? Because I think one just blew.

MAYBE? It is totally acceptable to shop at outlets. If you’re in Italy and buying stuff at the Prada outlet, that is. (page 108)

YES! There exists an article of clothing called “zoot pants,” and Lucky’s “Style Spy” expects you to wear them for fall.

YES! Lucky’s editors may suffer from long-term memory loss, since they’ve managed to load up “The Smart Shopping Sourcebook” with heaps of accessories and clothes under $100, but can’t seem to remember those stylish bargains long enough to insert many of them in other features.

YES! According to “Accessories Report,” eyeglasses are in for fall. Great! I hate when glasses are out and I have to go around squinting. Suffer for fashion, right? (Or, you know, wear them and look like I don’t care about my appearance at all.)

MAYBE? Ed Hardy’s new perfume, which, according to the ad in this issue, is a “vintage tattoo inspired fragrance,” could be less appealing. But probably not.

YES! Cosmetics are the sure path to happiness and fulfillment! According to “Beauty Spy,” hot pink blush will make you “instantly feel 5,000 times prettier.” The latest anti-wrinkle potions are “kind of miraculous.” A saffron lip stain is “unexpectedly gorgeous”—for $65, it had better be. A new Maybelline lipstick is “perfect,” and a handful of acne products work with “stunning efficiency.” Yay!

MAYBE? Despite the wisdom so altruistically dispensed on page 214, most readers probably don’t need detailed instructions on shampooing.

YES! It is possible to “Love Your Hair,” as page 224 exuberantly instructs. It doesn’t require a shift in perspective—just a heap of drugstore products, a $140 flat iron, and a $34 shampoo. Easy!

MAYBE? We shouldn’t take beauty editors’ advice as gospel, since in “Skin Regimens of Beauty Editors,” one confesses that she hates washing her face at night and another never takes off her eye makeup before bed. As all of us who’ve been indoctrinated by a lifetime of women’s mags know, not washing up before sleeping is a cardinal sin.

MAYBE? I might have actually used the stickers to mark various pages of the “Lucky Fall Shoe Guide.” I’ll never tell.

YES! As noted in “40s Modern,” the right clothes can make me “magpie-cool.” Whatever that means.

YES! A $415 leopard-print blouse can be worn for work, weekend, and evening, according to “Fall’s Most Versatile Pieces.” Good thing, too, because at that price, it’d be the only blouse I own.

MAYBE? An $1195 Emporio Armani jacket and $630 Bruno Frisoni pumps, as seen on pages 280 and 281, aren’t the best exemplars of the “punk rock” or “collegiate” style the spread is supposed to embody. But then, neither is posing those “punk rock” models in front of a nightclub advertising a show presented by Radio Disney. Oops!

YES! Now that I’ve read the entire issue, I do want to purchase a new wardrobe! Lucky, you’ve successfully completed your mission.

Lucky Thinks You Have the Body of a Model

The cover of Lucky’s August issue claims it features “The Best Jeans for Your Body—Ever!”

Unfortunately, it looks like the footnote to that coverline was omitted in what was surely a grievous copyediting error. After perusing the fashion spread in question, I’m certain that cover line should have read:

The Best Jeans for Your Body—Ever*

*if you are 5’11” and weigh 125 pounds

See, unlike most features that bill themselves as suggesting clothes “for your body” and therefore present at least a token range of body types, Lucky depicts only a slender model, head and torso cropped out of the frame, wearing the featured jeans. Ah, yes, it's the time-honored fashion magazine tradition of publishing cover lines that bear no resemblance to the article! 

So if you are very tall and your thighs don’t touch, you’re in luck! Not under contract with Ford Models? Lucky does not acknowledge your existence. Or your need for well-fitting pants. 

To be fair, the feature does include plenty of advice about how jeans should fit for optimum flattery. But is there a pair of snug pink straight-legs on earth that would look good on anyone but a model? (That's an actual example from page 115.)

While “The Lucky Guide to Denim” lacks body-type diversity, it does feature a range of denim trends. Some highlights:

Studded: Lucky calls these “unapologetically punky” and “a bit dangerous”—and nothing says punky and dangerous like $460 Just Cavalli denim!

Shredded: Ooh, jeans that are “all-out destroyed” are “rebellious.” What exactly are bleached and slashed jeans rebelling against? Pants that are, like, intact?

Dark, clean skinny: Says Lucky, these are the “ultimate day-to-night jean.” And they certainly are, if you work at a fashion magazine and jeans constitute appropriate office attire.

At the end of the guide, there's a promotion for an online video offering “tips on how to look great in jeans.” But why bother watching it? According to this feature, looking fantastic is simple. Just be genetically blessed and let the pants do the rest!