A few days ago, a young cousin of mine asked how I got the idea for Delish. The truth, as I told her, is that I didn’t–Tamara did. It was her brainchild and I was thrilled to have been invited aboard. But in terms of my involvement with magazines, the big picture actually started way, way before that. Sometime around 1982, in fact, when I discovered Cricket Magazine at my weirdo, cult-like, math-and-science focused elementary school. Here was this little, soft book, that assumed I was smart, that had serious stuff, funny stuff, crafts, recipes–all for me. Two years later, at age 9, I produced a hand-drawn affair (and by “a” I do mean “just one issue”) called Superkid! which had a fashion feature (miniskirts and suede cuffed booties were all the rage, as I recall) and an entirely made-up interview with Ricky Schroder. (Whom, I realized with some discomfort as I told this story, my young cousin was going to need to Google.) I also got started on another “interview” with Christopher Reeve, and I did a drawing of Limahl. (What, you don’t remember Limahl? Fine.)
I kept my subscription to Cricket until about the 8th grade (and kept it a secret, as well). In the meantime, I’d found Bop and Teen Beat and TEEN and Young Miss. At about age 11 I started reading Rolling Stone, Interview, Vanity Fair and Vogue.
And then, of course, came Sassy.
Oh Sassy, alternative elixir of the teenage goddess.
[Insert rueful, romantic sigh.]
Sassy changed everything. Absolutely everything. We know this. (And if we don’t, there are blogs and zines and books on the topic.) Sassy was sometimes the only thing in my life that didn’t suck.
Moving on, then. In high school, I had a brief but phenomenal internship at Dirt, the short-lived “Sassy for boys” run by Mark Lewman, Andy Jenkins and Spike Jonze. (Yep, that Spike Jonze.) Me and three cool guys in their 20s, in a high-rise in Los Angeles. I was fantastically awkward, to the point that it freaked me out a little bit when Lew (as Mark is called) offered to take me to lunch. (Hope I managed to hide that.)
The next year, I started producing a hand-lettered (OMG WE DIDN’T HAVE A COMPUTER–but neither did anyone else I knew) zine called Fiend. In college I did a few more issues of Fiend (in Word, no less) and actually did it into my 20s, when I sold it on the shelves at the West Hollywood Borders store. Then I did an online magazine for teenage girls. It was called Lulu, and I modeled it after Sassy, which every sleazy teen magazine in production had been trying desperately to copy for upwards of ten years. It featured a full staff, all of whom worked for free, and produced three great issues and a ton of excellent reader-love emails, which I’ve kept.
That all took place while I was working as the director of editorial at another magazine. It was a parenting magazine for low-literacy, low-income, Spanish-speaking parents, and while I loved serving that segment of the community, the office environment was abysmal. (Upside: because of the never-ending insanity there, I learned more in 3 years than I could have possibly imagined: press checks, design, layout, pagination, ad sales, corporate sponsorships, Spanish-language editing, and how not to treat people.)
When I run into friends I haven’t seen in awhile, they tend to be surprised by whatever I’m up to. And to be honest, when some new development comes along (like the interview I’ve secured for the fall issue of Delish!), I’m often surprised and I wonder at what I’m doing right suddenly. But in reality, I haven’t done anything “suddenly”. I’ve kind of followed this path my whole life. There’s no real spontaneity. There is a continuum.
What about you? Tell me about you. What path have you been on for longer than you care to remember?
