|
|
you're missing me
I'm 23. I don't read Mademoiselle. Here's why.
By Jamie L. Jones
If you’ve been following Mademoiselle casually over the past year, you might wonder what the hell is going on.
A year ago, the magazine was suddenly all about being 25 and fabulous, blowing wads of money, shagging loads of boys, telling off your boss.
Now it’s changed again. The new Mademoiselle is about being a "smart" woman, making good decisions, making relationships work.
What you’re seeing, of course, is editor Mandi Norwood flailing about for some identity, any identity, that will reverse the title’s years-long slide. And I’m here to say: Keep flailing.
Whether this month’s makeover is sexy or silly or sober is beside the point. Mademoiselle’s real problem is in the way it relates to, and misjudges, the women who should be its readers. Women like me.
I am twenty-three, single, and technically a target reader of Mademoiselle magazine. But I do not and will not read it. Here’s why.
On the most obvious level, the problem with the new Mademoiselle is that Norwood does not keep her promises, and readers know it. Last August’s sexy Mademoiselle was not sexy, and this year’s serious Mademoiselle is not serious.
Sure, Norwood’s "magazine makeovers" have all the trappings of change: the design is appropriately lighter or darker, the writing cutesy or subdued, the headlines catchy or earnest. The magazine looks and—on a skin-deep level—feels different.
But in all her cosmetic and stylistic tinkering, Norwood is really just missing the point. As a skeptical but more or less average reader, I do not trust editor’s notes or cover headlines to tell me what to think of a magazine. I do not read Mademoiselle, above all, because I do not trust it to tell me what is important, or to know what I really think is important.
Among other things, the magazine seems to think that grown women like me are interested in playing games to get our way.
Take, for example, a small boxed article in June’s issue. The feature is called "Lifescript," and it tells me how I can get off the phone with my pesky Mother. "You say: 'Actually, you know what I’d love? If you could hunt down that photo of me hula dancing when I was three. I’d love to have that framed.' Mom drops the phone, runs to her photo album, and—whew!—I’m off the hook."
Who is this manipulative daughter, and who is her well-trained mother?
But even as it doles out flippant, useless relationship advice, the magazine expects me to take fashion and beauty advice far, far too seriously. Does anyone actually expect me to think that a new makeup regimen might put a woman in the White House? The idea came up in the June issue.
Actually, I would love to read a well-researched, intelligent article that describes a woman’s chance of getting into the White House. I would also like to read some practical cosmetics advice. I can’t get either in Mademoiselle.
Therein lies the inconsistency that ruins the magazine. If Norwood wants to make her magazine responsible and issue-oriented (or bold and sexy, or whatever) she will have to cut the giggly, unrealistic stories and make sure she knows which ones women will take seriously.
When I look back at Norwood’s first issues, I find the same problem: What was intended to be titillating was juvenile and simply embarrassing.
For example, the story in the August issue on the "Sexy Diary" was downright laughable. One entry read: "Had a Lysol-fest at home. Cleaning the apartment is actually sexy. Really." This is absolutely not what I call sexy and empowering! The inside articles had nothing to do with the racy boldness the cover promised.
While I’m hardly the first to note that women’s magazines are, as a whole, notoriously unintelligent and superficial, it doesn’t have to be that way.
Jane, which competes with Mademoiselle even though the two are Newhouse empire stepsisters, may not be much of a workout for my intellect, but it gives me what I like in a fashion and lifestyle magazine: sharp, witty commentary, and stories that do not insult me.
Jane is bold, smart-alecky, and funny. I would not look to magazines for psychology or life advice anyway, and Jane does not try to give me any. In other words, the front-cover attitude is authentic.
That Mademoiselle falls so deeply into the traps of the worst women’s magazines is especially ironic given its historical roots as the thinking woman’s magazine. The bad news for Norwood is that women are still thinking, and we hold magazines to their promises.
In fact, Mandi’s new-new Millie has gotten only one thing right: "This is your time," reads the new tag line on the cover.
Yes, Mandi, this is my time, and I will not waste another second of it.
July 27, 2001 © 2001 Media Life
-Jamie L. Jones is a writer living in Indiana.
Printer-Friendly
Version | Send
to a Friend
Cover Page | Contact
Us
