Glossed Over

Magazine Covers Putting the Faux in Fitness

Can someone please tell me which cover is worse?

Is it the Shape cover featuring Audrina Patridge, who is perhaps best known for hawking Carl’s Jr. burgers that she pretty clearly doesn't eat, and who appears to have lost the entire right side of her body to the Photoshop bandit?

Or is it the Seventeen issue with Nina Dobrev, because it’s a publication telling 12-year-olds how to acquire a rockin’ bikini body? (Let’s not even get into the missing chunk of her torso.)

I can’t decide, see, because I started trying to figure out why these magazines ostensibly devoted to fitness couldn’t find someone with serious muscle definition to put on the cover, and then I looked up how many professional women’s athletic leagues exist in the US, and then I learned there are more than 170,000 women playing college sports, and then I thought about Jillian Michaels and Glee’s professional dancer/actor Heather Morris (both of whom are famous enough to have landed magazine covers recently) and, for that matter, the women on Dancing with the Stars, and that I would consider any of them a more compelling fitness role model than Lauren Conrad’s neighbor from The Hills, and then I tried to figure out why major media outlets would forgo women like that in favor of these two as the best examples of a healthy lifestyle, and I realized--of course!--it has more to do with newsstand sales than actual fitness, and that’s more or less when my brain exploded.

Vogue Liveblog 2010: The One with Halle Berry on the Cover

The other day someone asked me why I still do the liveblog. After all, I've done it three years in a row. Isn't it time to move on? To which I say: Definitely not! I've been so focused on my day job lately that I'm barely finding time to read anything. (Alas, snarking on fashion magazines does not pay the rent, though I'm willing to entertain offers.) If not for this liveblog, I might never read September Vogue. That page count is intimidating!

As always, the rules: I have not opened this issue of Vogue. I have not read what any other writers thought about this issue. I'll be looking at everything except the cover for the first time. The liveblog happens in real time, so just hit refresh on this post to see the latest entries. And I'll be posting periodic updates on Twitter and Facebook throughout the day, too.

Here we go!

Why I Haven't Posted Here Lately, Part 1

I’ve been trying to write a brief explanation of why I haven’t posted here for months, but six drafts in, I haven’t gotten there yet. Instead, I have thousands of words about the masochism of pursuing beauty, contentment versus consumerism, and the indisputable fact that dieting sucks. 

So until I wrangle all those words into a format that would be interesting to someone else, here’s the very, very abbreviated version: I have a few unhealthy tendencies that are sometimes exacerbated by reading women’s magazines. Even after five years of writing this blog, even after years of questioning, there’s still a tiny part of me that wants to buy the lies women’s magazines are selling.

Five years of blogging is little inoculation against a lifetime of indoctrination. That ongoing mental battle is what compelled me to start this blog in the first place, but it also means my urge to read and write about magazines waxes and wanes. Which means this blog waxes and wanes, too. Sometimes magazines are a reminder of how far I’ve come. But sometimes they’re a reminder of how far I have yet to go.

(All that said, I will have a new post up later today.)

***

Three tangential notes:

Glossed Over turned five years old yesterday. Happy birthday, blog!

Even when I’m not writing here, I frequently tweet links about women, the media, magazines, body image, and the like. Here's my Twitter feed.

Finally, I want to mention Laryssa Wirstiuk of Comma ‘N Sentence, whose post last week mentioning Glossed Over was a great motivator to sit down and write. Thank you.

Allure Strikes Out with Sports Advice

If all these magazines are going to relay ridiculous advice, could they at least get together first and be consistent in their totally arbitrary rules? While Cosmopolitan advised that female sports fans are unlikely to find male companionship, the September issue of Allure posits that a cursory knowledge of sports is mandatory. From “How to Be Stylish”:

You are not required to like sports. You are not even required to pretend to like sports. But utter cluelessness is beneath you.

To put this in perspective: Allure did not consider it beneath them to print a two-page spread with a dozen pictures of Michael Jackson and ask plastic surgeons (some of whom had apparently never treated Jackson) to speculate about the procedures he’d had. So knowing enough about MJ that it practically constitutes a HIPAA violation is cool, but not following the NBA is unforgivably churlish.

Also, while no text explains exactly why acquiring some sports knowledge is so important, the facing page features a photo of a couple canoodling in a baseball stadium. Subtle!

Familiarize yourself with the approximate beginning and end of the pro sports seasons. Not having an opinion about the Lakers’ record is fine; not knowing that the season is over is lame.

The same goes for time periods: Baseball has nine innings; football and basketball have four quarters; hockey has three periods; soccer has two halves.

And that's it! No need to worry about such unimportant details as field goals or free throws or anything that would give the impression you actually have the slightest command of any of these games. At least there's nothing here about, like, the Lakers wearing purple and gold...together.

Upsets are the most exciting thing about watching sports. Watch highlights of the most buzzed-about games on YouTube so you can join in the national conversation. (Just check out when the U.S. soccer team beat Spain in this year’s Confederations Cup.)

At last...an explanation! It’s the “national conversation.” Apparently, the country is also absorbed with walking in platforms and cheek-kissing, because those are two of the other life-and-death matters covered in this article. Can I assume GQ and Esquire are instructing their readers to bone up on those topics?

Deeming a lack of knowledge about sports is undignified seems just as arbitrary as declaring which colors of eyeshadow are in for fall. Why single out sports as an essential topic—especially when the only explanation comes in a picture of a couple getting cozy on a baseball diamond? If the idea is that some basic sports knowledge will help readers relate to men, they could at least be upfront about it. (And imagine the amazing conversations that would result from following this article’s advice: Him: “I love hockey.” Her: “I don’t like hockey, and I won’t pretend to like hockey, but Allure says that game has three periods! Now let me tell you how many innings a baseball game has!”)

Instead, Allure’s advice perpetuates the myth that women don’t like sports while simultaneously implying that a lack of interest or knowledge in the subject is a personal failure. I don’t know what game this is, but I don’t think Allure is playing fair.

Related: Cosmopolitan: Sports Fans, Prepare to Be Single Forever

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.

In Lucky’s Eco Issue, “Green” Means Cash

The April issue of any women’s magazine invariably dedicates plenty of space to the environment and the latest in eco-friendly fashions. Which makes sense, of course, because there’s nothing more sustainable than printing millions of copies of a magazine that encourages readers to purchase new clothes,  accessories, cosmetics, and furnishings and then trucking those stacks of dead trees across the country on a monthly basis! (And to clarify, when I say “sustainable,” I mean it in the ecological sense. It's quite clear a magazine’s business model isn’t exactly economically sustainable.)

This month’s Lucky is the very embodiment of this pattern. Nonetheless, the editorial team managed to halt the relentless parade of consumer goods just long enough to drop some green knowledge. Get ready to follow their eco-examples!

Lucky editors answer: What’s your favorite green strategy?

The responses have one thing in common: at Lucky, green doesn’t just mean environmentally friendly—it means cash. One editor advocates the use of multiple $18 plastic water bottles. Another likes the organic textiles in a $350 duvet. And Jean Godfrey-June, like many of us, carries her groceries in canvas totes instead of plastic bags. Except, unlike many of us, her bags cost $92. EACH.

Still planning to be eco-friendly? Prepare to spend even more! In “The Lucky Guide to the Best of Green Style,” the magazine’s found a selection of ludicrously expensive organic clothes and accessories. There’s a $310 jumpsuit, a $565 jacket, and a $410 recycled leather tote. Wonder if it’s more environmentally sound to opt for paper (cash) or plastic (credit)?

To their credit, however, Lucky has embraced at least one facet of an environmentally friendly lifestyle. On page 110, they suggest an 80s-style ensemble consisting of a blazer, denim cutoffs, and “bright white” canvas tennis shoes, so obviously, they’re really into recycling.

A Lucky Rabbit's Foot for Animal Lovers

Yesterday, in dire need of a boost, I spent three dollars and change on a latte. As the perky cashier at the Coffee Bean took my order, she asked whether I wanted to contribute a dollar toward their charitable cause du jour. And why not? What’s another dollar when 8 ounces of coffee costs more than a gallon of gas?

Back at home, I reflected on my minor good deed and, bursting with my newfound moral superiority, I realized I needed to do more. There had to be something else, some grand gesture I could make to help the less fortunate this holiday season. So I decided to read my copy of Lucky’s December issue. There’s no rule that says I have to be sloppy while serving mankind, right? Is it so wrong that I want to look good and do good at the same time?

How fortuitous, then, that Lucky presented me with yet another opportunity to give to a good cause simply by buying something I don’t even need! In “Beauty Spy,” page 170, the magazine features an $85 Chantecaille bronzer—and 5 percent of the proceeds from its sale go to save the dwindling population of Bengal tigers!

Bengals? Oh, I love cats! Forget my measly dollar at the coffee place. My $4.25 would have the power to do much more good—and I’d achieve a sun-kissed glow at the same time!

The bronzer really got my mind working. What else could I do for those furry four-legged creatures I so adore?

It’s like Lucky was reading my mind! This is what I found in “Party Ready”:

“Statement fur” indeed! What better way to demonstrate my affection for wildlife than to wear an animal’s carcass across my shoulders?

Now, I know what you’re thinking: isn’t it kind of strange that Lucky would suggest saving an endangered species on one page and then showcase fur on another? It’s totally not hypocritical, though! See, the fur coat is rabbit, and we all know bunnies will never face endangerment!

Filled with the warmth of extreme self-satisfaction, I flipped back through the magazine, envisioning how alluring I’d be with my bronzer-streaked cheeks and silky rabbit coat. And then I came across this advertisement:

Oh, Petra, you’re so right! It really is possible to be both—and I was so afraid I'd have to choose!

Marie Claire Editors Were the Girls I Hated in High School

Hey, teens! Have no idea what you’d like to do with your life? So awkward and insecure you’ll attend your ten-year high school reunion with something to prove? 

Then Marie Claire’s November issue has just the thing for you! In “The Savvy Girl’s Guide to Surviving a Reunion,” the magazine lists some accomplishments—er, “accomplishments”—you’ll want to rub in your classmates’ faces. What better way to retaliate against that hateful Facebook bully than by wearing a hot outfit? Just pick one of this issue’s six personas (in bold below), plan your ensemble, and live happily ever after. Really, it’s that simple.

Look out, world! Behold the best and brightest of Marie Claire High School’s graduating class!

Budding CEO Status

Only smart people wear glasses, right? So if you had specs in high school, get ready to impress your classmates with your perspicacity…by wearing even more prominent, less flattering frames.

Remember those thick Buddy Holly frames everyone made fun of? They’re in.

And maybe once your erstwhile classmates hear how much money you hauled in last year, they’ll stop snickering about how unflattering your glasses are.

New Body

Were you the girl who had to walk her laps in gym class? The last picked for every game of badminton?

Wow everyone with a skintight dress and booties…

Flaunt it! All the guys you crushed on years ago now have bald spots and pot bellies, but that won’t stop them from getting hammered and slurring pathetic declarations about how they always thought you were beautiful back then. Be gracious. You’re more attractive than they are—therefore, you win at life!

Bun in the Oven

I’m going to quote this one without commentary. It’s just that ludicrous.

At the 10-year reunion, the entire girls lacrosse team chided your workaholism—you’d simply forgotten to have children, they sneered. Make like Angelina in a long jersey jumper that clings in all the right places, revealing your on-trend baby bump.

See what I mean?

Independent Streak

Were you a curfew-meeting, demerit-free, rule-abiding killjoy? What better way to demonstrate how you’ve learned to eschew convention than by wearing mismatched clothes and candy-colored heels!

The more you clash, the better you look.

That’ll show ‘em! Everyone knows wearing exactly what a fashion magazine tells you is the best way to demonstrate individuality. What a special snowflake you are!

Husband, 2.5 Kids, and White Picket Fence

Did you stay home with a stack of VHS tapes on prom night and graduate without having experienced a single kiss? Good news! Your existence has been validated now that you’ve somehow found some dude to pledge eternal devotion and impregnate you multiple times!

Coordinate your outfit with an element of your hubby’s without going full-on Jada and Will. A shell, pencil skirt, and cape pull together the whole smug package.

And everyone likes a smug married! Don’t forget to tell those bitches from the songleading squad about the darling thing little McKenna did at last week’s mommy-and-me yogilates class!

Hefty Divorce Settlement

There are excellent career prospects for a high school heartbreaker—you won’t need one. As an adult, men will actually give you money to break up with them!

…[show] up in your favorite fur coat thrown over a red-carpet-worthy dress—after all, your ex is paying for it.

Suggested cocktail hour conversation topic: divorce attorneys. If nothing else, you’ll be able to recommend the best one around.

But really, I don’t understand Marie Claire spending so many pages talking about high school reunions as if they’re events to be wary of. What woman wouldn’t want to spend hours trapped in one room with her entire high school graduating class reminiscing about the very best years of her life? Right?

Boring administrative detail regarding comments • Typepad experienced periodic outages Thursday, and as such, some comments seem to have been lost. If you posted a typically brilliant remark and it hasn’t appeared here, it isn’t because I’m moderating comments. It’s because Typepad swallowed your words whole. So feel free to repost, and feel free to revise your original statement to include a healthy dose of invective about Typepad.

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?