One of the facts of married life is that you will frequently find yourself stuck in a situation, usually in the bathroom, where there is nothing to read but one of your wife's magazines. After 22 years of
marriage, I am now able to look back at some of the magazines that I've gotten to read as a result of that joyful union.
As always, the early years were golden. Back then there was
always a Vogue or an Elle around. I never had much use for Vogue, but those were the early days of Elle magazine and it wasn't bad at all. Of course there were the lovely pictures to marvel at, but I remember that they had some of the best movie, book and pop music reviewers around. Pop culture has always been my culture and Elle filled the bill. They had good travel articles as well.
I sometimes wondered if my wife ever read it though. More than once I would suggest a move, something like "My Dinner with Andre" - that kind of thing. My wife would say "Never heard of it." "Oh? There was a great review in Elle." "Must have missed it." The early years of marriage have their rocky moments, and in those times I had visions of custody battles over the Elle magazine subscription.
Fast forward ten years and the magazine is now Martha Stewart Living. Say what you want about Martha Stewart, the girl is nothing if not practical. You could learn a lot from Martha Stewart Living. I like food, and I've been known to pick up the spatula from time to time so being stuck with Martha wasn't a terrible proposition. Hell, I once even read an article where Martha was telling me how to wash my car. Can you imagine? Martha out there all hung over on a Saturday morning washing her car? I always felt that underneath her pretty veneer there was a man. Martha was no Elle, but she was far from bad.
Fast forward another ten years and what have we got? Oprah. These are the dark days, my friends. You're better off staring at a wall than looking at an Oprah magazine. There is nothing worth looking at in Oprah. Even when they're talking to someone good, Oprah makes them talk about stupid stuff. And that Dr. Phil guy gives me the creeps. I don't buy his crap for a second. Thank god Brooks Brothers sends me a new catalog every week, and it can usually be found lying around the bathroom.