I have run out of things to say about the horrible state of magazines these past few years. Depressing, banal, boring, lifeless. All of them. It's almost like the idea of creating something beautiful has become offensive to the editors of Conde Nast and Hearst.
Magazines are nothing more than scared little followers of whatever's churned out on the internet, obedient to the algorithms designed to keep everyone - no matter their age - thinking and acting like stunted adolescents, sucking up products and agendas.
People need to look at the devices in their hand and realise everything exists to encourage you to act like a teenager, stuck in that mode of basing everything on superficial appearances, being obsessed with sex, desperately pinning your identity to certain groups while bullying anyone who isn't part of your 'tribe', all the while thinking
nothing through to its real-life consequences, and when anything inconvenient is pointed out, labelling it as some form of 'hater'. Because that would be the actions of a well-rounded adult.
Most of the main titles - there is nothing in them for people who are happy to be adults. Just an endless drip of low-effort sh*t. The equivalent of constantly wearing designer-label sweatpants at home and wanting applause for your daring fashion choices.
In this age, magazines should be a slice of life that mixes the mundane with the extraordinary. On one page, you could see yourself, the next page, something you could never imagine. Best of both worlds. And a good editor could balance it all.