A Genteel Lady’s magazine roundup: Hats, phones, and the latest fat-melting technology for fall Monday, Oct 29 2007 

1. November Allure. The funniest bit was a photo montage on “inky nails,” where the model was self-consciously holding an iPhone. So two months ago. I like the navy blue manicure, though. My usual favorite column, Scalpel News, was actually so disgusting I couldn’t even read it. Also disgusting: a big article on new fat melting technology. Also, speaking of fat melting, I think we are at that point in the year where the 2007 makeover girls are getting to be skinnier than I am. That is always sobering.

2. November Vogue.

We are all supposed to wear hats this winter, which seems fun. An annoying article about “budget fashion” where the editors shop at stores that are expensive to us on Planet Earth, but must be cheaper than couture. An essay where a woman complains that her husband spends too much time cooking his way through the Chez Panisse cookbook; my heart bleeds for her. Pretty clothes. What the hell is this new Paris Hilton perfume? I have never seen Can-Canning look so unattractive.

3. November Elle.

Scarlett in an awesome dress on the cover. Yet another photo montage of faux paparazzi shots. Yet another story where we learn Angelina is the new Sophia Loren, Gwyneth is the new Grace Kelly (*#&@! I am the new Grace Kelly!), etc. I always like these articles because they involve lots of leopard print clothes and prim little handbags. Still it’s too bad that every single article in this issue is a rehash of some other article from last month. Is Elle going to be the next Mademoiselle-like casualty? If so, we need to make sure its awesome advice columnist gets another public forum.

OK, now I am going back to reading an actual book, Gore Vidal’s “1876.” I am very excited about a popular drink among media tycoons in 1876: the Razzle Dazzle, equal parts brandy, absinthe, and gin and apparently consumed by tycoons in hotel bars starting at nine in the morning. When do I get to be a media tycoon?

Photo is from fat-melting article in Allure.

Mandy Moore, misshapen jackets, and socks with sandals: October Lucky Sunday, Oct 14 2007 

I have often proclaimed that I treasure Lucky magazine for its bizarrely unique world view. Let other magazines tell us about the virtues of little black dresses and flattering makeup; I go to Lucky to see sweatpants paired with high heels, sweater/bathrobe hybrids, and serious articles about how to make velveteen knickers look sharp and professional for work. (What do they think we do for a living, anyway? I don’t know, but it’s fun to envision showing up for work in their suggested ensembles.)

Recently, though, there has been a disturbing trend towards normalcy. This month, for example, their “10 ways to wear it” feature focused on a boring cotton dress, not the fur shorts and bizarrely gilded tunic that are customary.

The beauty seemed kind of useful and Allure-like (honestly, I should probably buy every single one of the products that supposedly make you look more awake). OK, false eyelashes are a little weird, but the focus was on making them look “natural,” not, as one would expect from Lucky, how best to glue green rhinestone encrusted lashes onto your own.

Aside from a few misshapen and creatively droopy jackets, the clothes could be from any ladies’ magazine. I was in the depths of dispair. But then, on the last page, salvation — “I’m currently in love with the idea of wooly socks worn with high-heeled earthy sandals as an alternative to boots,” says evil genius Andrea Linnett. You go, Ms. Linnett! That’s why I still subscribe. Now make sure that next month, you show me 10 ways to wear a furry bikini, including one way to make it work for a plucky investment banker’s wardrobe.

One City, One Book: Your mom’s book club edition Sunday, Oct 14 2007 

This whole book club phenomenon is interesting. On the one hand, I feel like Oprah’s Book Club has greatly improved the quality of books you can find at the airport or a bad book store and has gotten me out of many a tight spot, like receptionist jobs where I would finish my book by lunchtime and be faced with an entire afternoon of playing solitaire.

Also, I love the lists of questions they have started putting at the end of these books, such as: “Elisabeth called all her descendents to her bedside when she knew she was dying. What were the long-term repercussions of this act for her family?” This brings back fond memories for me of the Great Books program in my elementary school, whose point I never really understood but was a great way to get out of class and spend the afternoon windbagging about some silly Ray Bradbury story.

On the other hand, I think maybe it leads to books that are better understood asĀ  conversation starters for your afternoon scrapbooking session than as, I don’t know, books. Take Cane River. Written by “a former vice president of Sun Microsystems to immerse herself in family history” via a UC Berkeley Extension writing class (rad!), this book traces the author’s family origins from slavery in Creole Louisiana to relative prosperity in 1930s Louisiana.

You can tell it is meticulously researched, and she found great records, from a written family history to tons of court records to a series of newspaper articles about the murder of someone in the family. I would be much more interested in reading about that process from a first-person perspective than in the awkward narrative she constructs from it. I think that this might, however, have been a marketing decision, based on the many, many book clubs (including Oprah and One City One Book) that probably prefer the novel format.

Personally, I think that slapping a treacly narrative on top of Tadeny’s meticulous research robs this story of its inherently good qualities. And as one alumnus of the UC Berkeley Extension to another, I have a tiny word of advice for you: Sentences like “The day was cold and foggy, like his spirits” should be avoided, if possible. For more information, I recommend the the Extension’s copy editing certification series of classes.