I grew up addicted to magazines. I was around 5 when I threw up on my Twinkle comic on a rough ferry crossing and was distraught that I wouldn’t be able to get hold of another copy because the new issue was due out the next day.<\/p>\n
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I spent all my pocket money on the Beano, the Dandy, Smash Hits and then, Just 17. Heaven. The Just 17 year books were my bibles and I was obsessed by “what’s in my handbag” features. I still am. I read Mizz, was banned from reading More but bought it anyway (sorry Mum but there wasn’t a sniff of a boy until much later so I couldn’t try position of the fortnight). I started reading Cosmopolitan when I was in senior school much to the shock of a student teacher who found me reading an article about sperm donation in an English lesson.<\/p>\n
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As an adult, I read them all: Marie Claire, Elle, Vogue, my beloved but not forgotten Options, Glamour and Red. I adored Red. Red was my magazine. I got the aesthetic, I understood it’s politics, it wasn’t snide or patronising and it was self aware. When it’s editor, Sam Baker, left I was bereft. There was a long conversation with the bestie about it as one of the highlights of our month was waiting for our subscriptions to arrive and then discuss the issue in detail.<\/p>\n
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