I thought I had found my perfect magazine. Finally a magazine that really spoke to me as a thirtysomething. That perfect balance of fashion and lifestyle with meaty features that I actually wanted to read not just roll my eyes at and turn the page. Intelligent interviews with people who I had actually heard of and clothes that I wanted to wear. Places that I would dream of escaping to and food that I would drool over and maybe even get around to cooking one day. And for a time I finally found all of that and more in Red magazine. So much so that I treated myself to a monthly subscription earlier in the year.
I had long since grown bored of so many magazines. It’s surprising how many magazines just don’t appeal to women of my age. I have no interest in reading back to back celebrity gossip especially when I don’t even know who the celebrities are. Far too many people seem to be famous just for being famous these days and that really doesn’t interest me in the slightest. Nor do silly quizzes on how to tell when he really fancies you and other such drivel. It’s a long time since I’ve felt the need to scrutinise a beau’s every word and or zodiac sign. In fact, I’m not sure I ever did. And don’t even get me started on the pages and pages of life changing diets. It’s bad enough being bored to tears by friends who have been on a diet for the twenty years that I have known them, I don’t want to read about the latest fad that I can already tell you won’t work. Yawn. I’m just too old and grumpy for all that crap.
But I would look forward to Red thudding on to the doormat each month. I used to set aside an afternoon to devour it cover to cover in one sitting. Easily pleased I know, but boy did it feel like a treat. In the last few months though, it seems to have gone seriously off the boil. Is it a coincidence that it was around the same time that Sam Baker left as editor? I don’t think so unfortunately. It just feels like it has completely lost its way. It just doesn’t draw me in any more. I now realise what an amazing job Sam Baker was doing and actually, she clearly made Red what it once was. And going by the conversations that I’ve had on Instagram and Twitter over the weekend, I know I’m not the only one to feel the same. There are so many disappointed readers out there that I know it’s not just me picking fault. Sigh.
You can imagine my disappointment when this months issue was delivered. Red has been Goop’d. Goop’d. Poop’d. Tomato. Tomato. Just the sight of Gwyneth Paltrow makes me want to scoop my eyeballs out with rusty teaspoons which I know is probably a slightly irrational reaction but it’s like Red couldn’t have got it – me – more wrong. Our love affair is well and truly over. So I now (annoyingly) find myself back on a mission to find a new magazine to love. Answers on a postcard please. Or better still, the comment box.