Tagged: Advertising

Why you’ll see me starve before you’ll see me working for a women’s magazine

Spotted this morning on the train, in some women’s magazine (a weekly of the celebrity / gossip kind I would guess from the tasteless design) in a young woman’s lap.

On the left-hand page of a spread: Advertorial recipe feature promoting luscious-looking cupcakes.

On the right-hand page of the same spread: Huge red headline for the crash diet feature “Lose 5lb in one week!”

I’m not even going to go into the whole screwed-up body images and imposed beauty norms kind of stuff.

But still, I’m just as puzzled by the question how any editor with a shred of integrity can sign off such a spread as I am amazed that there are actually thousands of women out there who are willing to pay money to put themselves through the self-imposed emotional torture that these magazines promote.

London Christmas lights cheat

Christmas lights. All over Oxford Street.

Have I somehow dropped out of the general timeline? Because in my world it’s not Christmas. It’s not even December. It’s the first week of fucking November. I mean, come on. The Halloween pumpkins aren’t even done rotting yet!

And then, they’re not even real Christmas lights. They’re fucking sparkly advertising screens for A Christmas Carol. I know Christmas is all about selling stuff, and then selling a little more stuff. But shouldn’t at least the Christmas lights be, like, sacred? Just a little?

Or maybe it’s just little, naive me, from my little small town full of 100% Christmas-y, non-commercial Christmas lights. (In December. Where they belong.)

Talk about selling your soul to Disney. Ur doin it rite, London.