Bam. There it was. The first article in the first men's magazine I had ever purchased. It blew my mind. It knocked my frilly little black and silver socks off. So much so in fact, that it spurred me to rush home (without even properly finishing the rest of the article I might add) and scour the stacks of glossies by my bedside table searching for one article, one paragraph, one sentence of comprable quality in the mountains of women's magazines I have.
At first it was to my surprise that nothing came close and then as I thought about it it became more and more disappointing and unsettling. "What ever happened to this kind of quality writing in a women's magazine," I wondered. Why is it that I can open one men's magazine and the very first article I lay my mascara laden eyes upon is engaging and captivating, discussing psycholgical and behavioral traits as opposed to yet another monotonous, and somewhat robotic feeling, piece covering the annual Met Gala (as if i wasn't already aware of that was) in a magazine geared toward women? Can't we, women, talk fashion AND intellect?
Like most of the questions I ask myself, this one I have not yet figured out... But I intend to.
At first it was to my surprise that nothing came close and then as I thought about it it became more and more disappointing and unsettling. "What ever happened to this kind of quality writing in a women's magazine," I wondered. Why is it that I can open one men's magazine and the very first article I lay my mascara laden eyes upon is engaging and captivating, discussing psycholgical and behavioral traits as opposed to yet another monotonous, and somewhat robotic feeling, piece covering the annual Met Gala (as if i wasn't already aware of that was) in a magazine geared toward women? Can't we, women, talk fashion AND intellect?
Like most of the questions I ask myself, this one I have not yet figured out... But I intend to.