IT WAS ONLY A matter of time before the Metrosexuals got their bible. Cargo hasn't been cutting it, and too many women read GQ and Esquire at this point to really call them men's magazines. So it makes sense that the fashion elitists at Vogue got the job to service the Metrosexual elite (think $120K cars, million-dollar watches, and 30K cell phones, $600 shoes).
The premiere issue of Men's Vogue, edited by Jay Fielden, a former Vogue editor, is well done, and it definitely hits the more masculine side of the fancy boy trend--although it basically covers the same departments as its sister pub: fashion, beauty, art, food, design, and rich people.
In usual Vogue style, it pairs New York's top writers with the best brands and topics that are out of the usual range of the regular Joe. The departments include a culture section called "Critics" that covers elite wines, theater (Nathan Lane's "Odd Couple" is reviewed), art, movies, books (war correspondents on Iraq), and food (Jeffrey Steingarten writes about his love affair with a prosciutto slicer). The fashion section, called "Threads," is no surprise: expensive watches, bespoke suit tailors, and Marina Rust on how to buy jewelry for a woman.
Like its sister publication, Men's Vogue offers articles that are easily skimmable, and the photography is gorgeous. The beauty section is called "Regimen," and includes a story about a new face scanner that tells a man how much sun damage he has, and product advice from New York's most chic pharmacist.
I've never been a reader of Vogue features. Not that they aren't well-written or about interesting subjects. It's just that the photography always steals the spotlight, and when you're in fashion-skimming mode, it's hard to get into New Yorker reading mode, even if some of the writers are on staff at The New Yorker. So, despite interesting topics such as a story about an ancient tribe that survived the Tsunami, a story about the art of raising Chinese crickets, and a profile of cover star George Clooney, I was as usual much more taken in by Irving Penn's cricket up close, the spread of fashionable couples, and the inside of Nathaniel Rothschild's West Village loft. Men's Vogue does its job--except I have to say that I really missed the horoscopes. Come on, boys--we know you read them!
, Friday, September 9, 2005 , Media Post
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