****Dear John****

I have a confession to make...

I haven't bought a single fashion magazine since April, maybe even since March I can't quite remember. 

No, its not a deep dark confession or something extremely ground breaking but for me, a hoarder of magazines, it is definitely something to take note of. 

Seeing as I didn't grow up wanting to be in fashion I can't say that my obsession with the designer clad model filled glossy pages started back before I could talk but I did have a thing for Soap Opera Digest, Ebony and Jet...the only magazines I could find in my Grandma's house.  She would read them and when finished I got to flip through them endlessly.  Some would stay at her house and others I was allowed to take home much to my dads disgust.  He's a newspaper kind of guy and unless someone important died or the President of the US was just announced he never really saw  a reason to hold on to it.  With him it has always been burn after reading  I guess and that went with all reading materials except books.  Each trip that resulted in a new magazine to add to the collection made him a teensy bit more furious until one day he decided they had to go.  I can't say I was too heart broken since the bulk of the collection still remained neatly organized in a nice corner over at Grandma's but the reward felt from collecting was left unfilled.  Sometime passed and my interest in fashion peaked also renewing my interest in magazines.  It was at that point a problem was created.

Month after month I would spend countless dollars on Seventeen, Jane (do you even remember this one), Glamour, Cosmo, InStyle, Vogue, Lucky and more reading them several times before relinquishing them to their final resting spot...some where on my floor or dresser.  As time went on, the piles grew and my dad began to complain.  Why am I keeping these he would ask. Well dad wouldn't it be really cool to show my grandchildren and in 10yrs they will be worth money were my typical responses.  By the time I graduated high school I had boxes filled with pages and pages of frivolous fashion finds and unfortunately that is where they had to stay since dorm life was rather limited in space. 

That didn't stop the accumulation and going to school for fashion in a big city only made the growth more rapid. I was introduced to magazines that had never even heard of a store called Borders or Barnes & Noble.  Country specific variations of Vogues and most importantly WWD truly took a bite out of my income but I knew it was worth it.Even  local fashion publications peaked my interest. I was so bad I even held on to a few scraps of a Filipino newspaper fashion column that was used as filling for the new merchandise of the truck at work. Some people are proud of their stamps while others are partial to coins...I loved my magazines and in reality it was the only real sign of the nominal income earned over my working years except for my closet. 

But like with many investments, sometimes you lose big and when the wonderful day came to move me into my first apartment and I frantically searched both my parent's and grandparent's basement and attic I realized that I had just been wiped clean.  During one of those spring cleaning moments my dad decided to chuck those boxes of useless pictures and articles...............

a moment of silence please

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Life goes on though and my obsession continued to multiply.  Each month I would spend valuable time in front of the magazine stand deciding which ones to start with.  The first purchases usually depended on whether it was rent week or the week the credit card payment was due, whether it was Kate Moss or Jennifer Lopez on the cover or whether it was the age or the body issue. Nonetheless all of my favorites were eventually purchased.  And by purchased I do mean regularly at the store as I never saw fit to subscribe...I don't get it either but lets just chuck it up to my serious delusion that I'm rich like Beyonce.  I looked forward to each new issue and cherished them long after the month passed.

But then something happened about a year back.  Spending my morning break at work as usual with a quick bite to eat,  some coffee, Whoopie and the girls on The View and a newly purchased magazine I looked up and realized I've already read this magazine.  I just opened the magazine but nothing inside was new.  The trends were newly polished versions of something from a year ago and the fashion spreads were...typical.  I still had twenty minutes left of my break and I had already finished three freshly purchased magazines.  I was devastated.  Figuring it was some sort of fluke I tried again a few days later.  

And again...

And again...

And again but each time it was the same thing.  I was left wondering exactly how stupid did these editors think I was to not notice them shoving the same shit down my throat.  And just to ensure I hadn't lost my mind I went into my magazine closet (technically the linen closet but my boyfriend realized it was the only contained area sturdy enough to support the weight of my life....lol) and sure enough I felt de ja vu breathing down my back.  The next day, I came home from work and did a little cleaning and I was left wondering a few things...

Why exactly was I keeping this extreme fire hazard?  

Did I really need these old H&M magazines?  

Do I even like Cosmo that much to  keep two years worth of it lying around? 

Needless to say I went through many, many years worth of magazines and, although I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them all, managed to condense it down enough to actually fit our towels and blankets and sheets in their rightful place.  Beyond the chronologically alphabetized collection that now neatly existed I was left with cut outs of random inspiring pieces within the uninspiring issues.  Great articles that I enjoyed reading or that still held some importance were now still available along with those great editorials that made me want to rob a bank and head over to 5th Ave immediately. And when I really thought about it, it was that one or two percent that had me hanging on to the all the fluff, not the whole package, so why not just cut out the good stuff?

That night, as I made the multiple trips to the dumpster with bags of regret (please don't hate but no I did not recycle....its not an option available at our complex) I continued to feel completely stupid for buying into the hype month after month.  How could I fall the repackaged past?  

But hey, when its the only resource you use, why wouldn't you trust it? After long periods of disconnect with the global fashion world due to the lack of a portal ( I have a seriously toxic relationship with technology and gadgets), my recent reintroduction with it has completely changed my focus. As much as I love Fashion Week and all that is the fashion industry, I strive less to completely mirror their definition of cool as dictated by the magazines.  It has become more of a street light on a dark highway.  Yes, I do need it and I know if it wasn't there I would be completely creeped out if I broke down but right now I have the amazing headlights on my brand new car, a fully charged cell phone with car charger and AAA.  I think I'll be fine.  

Which brings me back to my opening statement.  Although the movement started a year or so ago I can finally say, I've beaten my vice.  The styling taking place on so many blogs right now are so much more relevant to me and if I need a quick editorial fix there is always Fashion Gone Rogue.  Excellent Fashion Week coverage is offered in multiple point of views online as is the actual fashion show and thanks to Twitter I swear I feel like I'm right there backstage during it all.  And most importantly there is always something new and inspiring online where beating last years numbers aren't the focus.   Its unbelievable refreshing.  So outside the occasional V, Factory, Vice or other completely uncommon fashion magazine, I would like to take this time and bid my long running relationship with glossy and colorful paper good bye.  

We had a wonderful relationship but sometimes people just grow apart.  I feel like this is for the best...for both of us really. I would hate to continue on knowing how I feel, that wouldn't be fair to you.  I will always love you...as a friend...and hopefully we can still have a relationship..completely platonic of course.  You know, get coffee once in a while and catch up on life.  I know, I know we had big plans but those plans just don't match up with where I see my future self.  Please don't hate me and...I vaguely remember the story of your last break up but I won't hesitate to hit you with a restraining order if that side of you comes out......

Chow