Why else would he do a publicity campaign with the voting already done? But Clooney is smooth, so very smooth: he goes to dinner at Time writer Joel Stein's house and actually starts doing home repairs on the guy's house after a couple bottles of wine. He's also got the fame game completely figured out, hates Bill O'Reilly, and he knows that all the work he does in Darfur isn't really helping.
The Washington Post introduces us to the delightful Paranoia, circulation 15,000. It's been around since 1992, but they try to keep a low profile because of... well, you know. The magazine's two editors "attempt to publish a 'provocative, unpredictable mix' of conspiracy theories," and they "try not to have a house conspiracy style." What's inside?
Those mythical "swing voters" love O: The Oprah Magazine (advantage: Obama!) and the Hallmark Channel (advantage: Hillary!) and Nascar.com (advantage: Hephaestus, the god of fire!), according to Advertising Age and "an Experian Consumer Research analysis of Simmons National Consumer study." AdAge's Ken Wheaton says the results of the study ought to lead the Dems to nominate Hillary Clinton, because she'll appeal to "Conservative Democrats"—who are apparently educated women who watch Lifetime and spend no time on the scary internet—because these women "might have liberal views on immigration and the environment, but tend to be pro-life and religious." Pro-life, unlike both Dem candidates, and religious, like both Dem candidates. See how it works? Oh, and there's a fancy explanatory PDF. Click to enlarge the relevant bits. [AdAge]
An inspired move by New York to play on Lindsay Lohan's obsession with Marilyn Monroe. Adam Moss' magazine scored one of the big web hits of the week, by persuading the Hollywood actress to strip for the same photographer who took the last, erotic photographs of Monroe before she committed suicide. Like I said, inspired. But not very original, it turns out. If Lindsay Lohan was paying homage to the mid-century bombshell, New York should have explained that it was itself paying homage to rival Vanity Fair. In 2006, Lohan channeled her alter ego in a spread for Graydon Carter's magazine. The styling? Borrowed from the first pictures of a 19-year-old Marilyn Monroe, at the beach in a white bathing suit. To think that, only two years ago, Lohan could play the ingenue without ridicule; now she's more credible as a washed-up actress on suicide watch. (Clockwise from top left: the early Marilyn, by photographer Andre De Dienes; Vanity Fair's February 2006 cover; this week's New York; and, the inspiration, the mid-century actress' "last sitting" with Bert Stein. Below: larger photos.)
Well, first of all: try posting it on the internets, under your real name, on the Cosmo website! Have we learned nothing about the perils of dateblogging? For what it's worth, our favorite Cosmogirl, recent Smith grad Leo, has tried everything. Including consulting Cosmo's sex articles for advice! (Noooo, girl, those aren't real.) So just how bad was it? Details, plz!
The celebrity weekly's cover story is actually about how the children of mentally ill famous woman Britney Spears are pretty much doing just fine, it turns out, under the care of people who properly strap them into carseats and wear underpants, but there's no denying the power of that headline. What do they know? Is Us Weekly willing to do whatever it takes to find out what Sean and Jayden know? There are lives on the line, people. The entire celebrity-industrial complex may depend on whatever actionable intelligence can be procured—by any means necessary—from these tow-headed youngsters. How do stars get glam? Who benefits? That's the real question, isn't it—why?—the "how" is just scenery for the suckers. Lufti, Adnan, X17, TMZ, it keeps people guessing like a parlor game, but it prevents them from asking the most important question—why? You're close, Us Weekly. Closer than you think. [Us Weekly]
Carine Roitfeld, French Vogue's editor for the last seven years, is the cooler, slightly younger, doesn't-give-a-fuck version of uptight American Vogue editor Anna Wintour. And hey: nobody made a moviebook about how bitchy she is. Not only is Carine totes different, but her whole magazine is pretty much better. Everybody in the fashion industry knows this already, but she very Frenchily explains what's wrong with American fashion editors to New York mag. (Oh, and: contrary to popular belief, she does not weigh her female staffers, but it is true that she doesn't know how to use a computer).
US Bowler Magazine's list of the top celebrity bowlers is out! And it's just a gem. The bulk of the list [via Ad Age] is taken up by athletes, which leads to much hilarious insider humor, like this line from sportswriter Norman Chad: "What is it with baseball pitchers and bowling? Heck, you don't see Mika Koivuniemi moonlighting as a middle reliever for the Detroit Tigers." Ha, fuckin-A right! But a few non-athletes do make the prestigious list, as the "Best of the Rest":
Despite the abundance of college sex magazines these days, it turns out that college kids are actually having less sex than in times past. The average number of partners per year for college men dropped from 2.1 in 2000 to 1.6 in 2006. And everybody overestimates how much sex everybody else is having. Alecia Oleyourrik, the editor of BU's Boink sex magazine and a co-producer of a book (misleadingly) called "College Sex by the People Having It," admits to being "the most prudish" of all her friends. She is looking for work as a waitress in New York, in case any sexless restaurants are hiring [Newsweek]. So much false advertising! Especially considering the covers [slightly NSFW] of some of Boink's past issues (except the masturbation issue, I guess):
Ab-obsessed Men's Health editor Dave Zinczenko is busy promoting his new book, which should be called "A List Of Foods For Healthy, Stupid People To Eat." Washington Post pseudotrend specialist Laura Sessions Stepp caught up with Zinc [WP], who, now that he's not busy wrestling with Julia Allison, has plenty of time to fill humanity in on the areas of his expertise: Abs, vanity, and how Maxim sucks!
We, like you perhaps, received this message in our "e-mail" inbox, from the twee literary magazine of one Dave Eggers: "It's a month of major things—a new quarterly, a new novel, and a new Wholphin are all bursting forth, via our website , yearning to be sent your way by the brave men and women of our warehouse, who right now are emerging from their cryogenic chambers and taking in nutrient-rich fluids in order to prepare for this fabled late-February triple-delivery. The major news networks are, inexplicably, not covering any of this, but here is what we can tell you: McSweeney's 26, first of all, is itself three separate objects, two books of short fiction featuring tornadoes, child reporters, Amanda Davis, and someone called the Black Shaman, and one volume of dead-serious dossiers, based on actual Pentagon documents, outlining how the United States might justify its next round of wars." DIAL DOWN THE CUTENESS OVERLOAD, m'kay, guys?
New York Magazine's pictures of nekkid Lindsay Lohan are titillating, sure. But more importantly, they are the embodiment of oh-so-many media trends! Like the trend of a glossy magazine grabbing a high-fashion photographer to make shirtlessness upscale (for men and women). Also, the "trend" of serious news outlets exploiting pop culture for massive clicks while still maintaining their "smart" cred. Further, tragic celebrities—living or not— are the best attractions. The Lohan shoot isn't pegged to her funeral, but it's pretty damn grim foreshadowing, considering the Marilyn Monroe theme. Finally, the whole thing provides the same masturbatory value as a hypothetical Lohan Playboy shoot; but with better PR for both sides. Of course, we would never put ourselves above covering the latest sex news. So since NYMag.com is currently crushed under an incoming barrage of clicks from masturbators, we've put the most relevant Lohan pic [by Bert Stern, via New York] after the jump. It's technically NSFW, but hey, it's a holiday!
The magalogue: It's back! The combo magazine/ catalogue bastardization never really went away [IHT/ Agenda Inc.], but Abercrombie is relaunching its version, A&F Quarterly, which was originally much appreciated, mostly, by horny teenage girls. The preppy retailer dropped the fake magazine several years ago because of the public outcry over the pictures. Abercrombie still loves unhealthily sexy advertising, but the cover of this year's AFQ (pictured) looks pretty straightforward. But after the jump, a few images from the riskier A&F Quarterlies of old. It's all a matter of taste (in butts).
The Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue is not some sort of purist literature product, but it is a sacred institution in the American magazine industry. Not only do its covers help us predict economic trends, they're also the traditional measuring stick for the evolving standards of mainstream white-bread attractiveness. So while we can forgive the cheesy Will Ferrell tie-ins this year as a ploy to bump circulation (SI was up less than 1% in the latest numbers; Playboy plunged 10%, though, which should tell them something), what has us worried is the fact that SI is now just recycling the exact same cover shot it had eight years ago. Here's how short men's memories are when it comes to the "topless model whose supple breasts are barely covered with strings of beads" dynamic:
Tina Brown, with all the dignity that comes with a lifetime achievement award, declares celebrity journalism has made America sick. "We're at a point where we're in a giant reality show," the former Vanity Fair editor tells the Naples News-Press. "I'm not interested in digging into someone's private life just for the hell of it." Oh yes? Tina's tenure of Vanity Fair was a success because she turned the title into an upmarket supermarket tabloid. And the purpose of this interview with the obscure Florida newspaper was promotion of The Diana Chronicles, Tina's gossipy account of Princess Diana's affairs. After the jump, a summary of the Dianamen, the succession of cockney bodyguards, riding instructors, rugby stars and phone sex buddies, whom Tina Brown inventories with lip-smacking relish.
Marketers are enthusiastically placing lickable ads in all types of magazines these days, disregarding the fact that that's just nasty. Do we really need to lick a page in a magazine to get the point that Welch's grape juice tastes like grape juice, or some chemical simulacrum thereof? "It's a little bit unsanitary, perhaps," one ad guy tells the Wall Street Journal. No shit, man. But we don't need any fancy agencies to hook us into this trend, anyhow; we're experimenting with our own lickable ad:
Speaking of, Alex Witchel's The Spare Wife, reviewed in the Times today, has all the usual suspects of the media incest we love. Read it and insert your own real-life characters! For example, who might be "Babette, [who] closes in on any man who might be useful in her quest to move up the ladder in the magazine world"? Could be anybody, really, which is what makes it so fun. [NYT]
We haven't checked in on young Cosmo web assistant Leo (Smith '07), in awhile. She's blogging about life as a Cosmogirl-in-Training; it's subtitled "one socially awkward girl attempts to transform into a sexy, social butterfly." Last time, we worried that her catty Hearst coworkers were brainwashing the sweet 22-year-old into becoming a typically snide, jaded young maglady. It's sort of working! Now she's wondering about "playing the field"—you know, dating a guy, but not exclusively. Is it "immoral"?
What is it about super high fashion magazines that convinces straight male actors to remove their shirts? The latest victim is Ryan Phillippe [Photo via Just Jared], who poses pensively in the new W Magazine, staring out a window with his nipples exposed, hands held abreast as if squeezing two imaginary Big Gulp cups. The same type of thing happened to Brad Pitt in Italian Vogue when he was promoting "Troy" several years ago (examples after the jump). These aren't the kinds of shots you see in GQ, or Esquire, or Shotgun News. Is it a desire to appeal to fashionable women? Or fashionable men? Or some secret spell that only rarefied fashion photographers can cast? What about the ridicule one should inevitable suffer from one's male friends over this? As a fellow straight man, I have no answers here.
