Is print so back?
Sandy Liang's and J.Crew's respective catalogues can mean only one thing
My mom fondly reflects on shopping with 90s catalogues whenever a brand name is mentioned on TV, like an activated sleeper agent: “Pottery Barn. Oh! I remember we found so many cute things for your room in that, like that one lamp, or the blanket on the couch in the living room— you remember, the checkered one?” Growing up, whoever made it home first on weekday afternoons had the responsibility of emptying the mailbox. Every few weeks, a stack of catalogues promoting kids’ toys, women’s clothing, tech and home gadgets, and much more would be cradled in my arms and flipped through with ferocity at the kitchen counter.
Magazines have been an established feature of my living spaces for most of my life, serving as decor, inspiration, self-medication and a social icebreaker. Last November I travelled back to Japan for my first visit in over 4 years. I made a point of exploring the“Little Book Town”, Jimbocho, a neighborhood in Tokyo I once passed through on the subway everyday for almost a year, never giving the scene above any thought. Jimbocho borders a lot of the business districts of Tokyo, and its charm lies in its book shops, new and used. My primary destination: Magnif - Zinebocho.
My move to Tokyo in 2016 refueled my love for magazines. Nights in my college dorm were spent with friends leafing through pages and with each new season that dawned, we scouted for which few issues we would shell out 400 yen for at convenience stores. I gathered quite the collection of (semi)designer brand goods from collabs with the publication houses (namely a pencil pouch from Jill Stuart and a mini wallet on chain from Furla) all from little cardboard boxes wedged between the centerfold of Sweet and bound tightly with plastic. Dog-ear pages were returned to, and I carefully selected what would be cut out to pin to corkboards I positioned above my closet, my lookbook guide for the season. I could never toss issues of ViVi, Sweet, or Vogue Japan. When Blackpink debuted, I collected every issue the girls featured in (those were strictly off-limits to scissors). That day in Magnif I began collecting vintage Japanese magazines, and I hope to choose which issues will sit among its ranks in the years to come with great intention.
When I opened Instagram Saturday morning I stumbled across a carousel of photos that made my media heart ever so happy: Sandy Liang giving a sneak peak of her catalogue. Like Anton Ego at the end of Ratatouille, I dolly-shot all the way back to my childhood self circling in Limited Too.
With the revival of the J. Crew catalogue at the height of quiet luxury this summer… does this one Sandy post signify that print is back, baby?
Hot off the bi-monthly presses
In the last year I’ve seen so many women in media lamenting over how their careers have failed to live up to the expectations they had been presented with as seen in Sex and the City and How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, to name a few. A steady, livable income? P’shaw. A glamorous lifestyle? For a select few only. The rise in the use and prioritization of social media by publications seemed to point to the redundancy of the magazine and catalogue, and pledges around sustainability in media pointed at putting them out to pasture for the collective benefit of all.
Then came Vogue Scandinavia in 2021, and its own manifesto for more sustainable print publishing had me thinking magazines weren’t gone for good, just a special treat every once in a while. VS’s bi-monthly print publication and limited print-to-order style (arriving in recyclable cardboard packaging as opposed to plastic) fell inline with their first cover star: Greta Thunberg, the Gen Z climate champion who captured the world with her Skolestrejk för Klimaet protest campaign. Some raised an eyebrow at her presence in a fashion-oriented publication, something inherently consumerist. I argue Greta made sense; she stood for the values Vogue Scandinavia was trying to manifest with its inaugural issue, especially when it came to justifying a printed edition. I ordered the first copy, but I’ll admit, the pieces featured in that issue didn’t capture my attention enough to warrant the price tag for future issues. (This hasn’t changed much for me since they keep highlighting Lily Collins because she loves Copenhagen. Sure, she kind of lives there now and appreciates Scandi lifestyle and design, but what has Emily in Paris contributed to the culture? I digress.) The fact that they can’t be briefly leafed through while buying snacks for your flight, searching for an article or two that piques your interest enough to reach for your bankcard, I thought, seems like a swift nail in its coffin.
Print as a part of slow living and the polarization of e-readers and audiobooks
I feel part of printed media’s appeal now is the desire to be in the loop with culture and design without constantly staring into a black mirror to do so. Slow living is something more and more are tuning to for a holistic lifestyle change, and I know when I want entertainment but can’t bear something coming from an illuminated board of 1s and 0s I turn to books, comics, and— you guessed it, magazines.
Going into my move to London, in an effort to feel more present and be aware of my surroundings(for safety and navigation ease), I have sworn off phone scrolling and headphone content while commuting. I’ve noticed more people are following a similar discipline, and advise bringing a book while out and about in case of traffic or long queues. Having tried this in the past, I often feel nauseous when reading from printed media while in motion, and I really don’t know why the same doesn’t happen if I’m reading on my phone. For the sake of my shoulders and bag space, I’ve considered an e-reader. Their benefits have long been touted as the device made for on-the-go, minimalist bookworms; some being:
device weight and compactness vs. a book whose size and weight can vary dramatically
not taking up too much space in your home (I’ve heard some people say they buy an ebook first to see if they like it, and then buy the physical copy when they finish it and know they liked it enough to reach for it again or lend it to a friend)
they’re cheaper than physical copies as paperbacks are to hardbacks
looking up unknown words and annotating is convenient (don’t need your phone or pen and sticky notes)
Oh— you don’t have an advanced copy of Intermezzo?
High profile celebs papped with a book in hand recently was a subject of a new Vogue article they shared to Instagram, to illustrate how reading (or rather, carrying a book) has become an accessory. We tend to place those considered readers on an intellectual pedestal despite the fact that reading and mean reading anything. There’s a difference between someone sitting with Wuthering Heights open in their lap on the subway, but the person nose deep into ACOTAR is looked at less fondly, despite the series’ clear resonance with audiences given its surge in popularity this past year. Why is that? Well, c’mon, we know why.
Under this particular Vogue post, one commenter was outraged that reading was being reduced to books being carried as an accessory, and plenty others piled on to drag Addison Rae for walking with The Woman In Me open in hand, and Kendall Jenner, seen with post-it notes at the ready. “her assistant told her which parts were good probably lol”, one user scoffed. I don’t care for being a Kardashian-Jenner clan apologist, but if you go back through years of interviews, KUWTK, and her own social media posts, Kendall has been reading since “before it was cool”. To the first comment I pointed out, one user replied “I agree, but the silver lining is that young people might be inspired to start reading for fun,” a sentiment I’m 100% on board with. When I began swapping my bedtime doom scroll with a strict no-screens-one-hour-before-bed policy for reading instead, I felt better and less anxious as I fell asleep, slept better, and felt more refreshed in the mornings, and I felt more rejuvenated in my weekends for blocking off an hour of reading in the morning with my phone in another room.
Folks I’ve met all throughout my years of school who previously shunned reading for pleasure and rolled their eyes through every year of English lit. classes are now posting about how they’ve just finished the fifth book in a 7-book fantasy series, clocking in over 300 pages each. Others are talking about how their reading time is their me-time, a sacred moment to be in their escape or with themselves. Some post photos with their favorite authors at events, sharing how their personal essay collections made them feel seen for the first time. Seeing people openly embracing something I’ve loved and was occasionally made fun of for as a kid is such a relief, and a clear sign of entering deeper into adulthood; no one gives a fuck what you think of their interests. Be it Stephen King, Jay Shetty, Colleen Hoover, or Hemingway, I couldn’t care less, you’re READING. But as it turns out, the greater public does…
This same Vogue IG post had one commentator saying that they hated it when folks reading in public aren’t obvious enough with what they’re reading because they, the spectator, can’t judge their literary choices! E-readers and audiobooks take just about all that judgment out of the equation. In the past few years Tik Tok and YouTube video formats in the style of “what strangers are reading on the metro” or “judging Londoners’ taste in books” became exceptionally popular. The politics of reading, what you read, how obvious you are about it, and the medium through which you’re reading fall into this whole matter of literary snobbery and a a desire to connect with and alienate others through culture.
Consider Sally Rooney’s Intermezzo. Like many books, advanced copies were sent out ahead of its publication. The catch here was the prominent copy number in each one, and no one outside the PR team knows how many there are, generating a sense of exclusivity. A recent conversation on Shameless discussed this further, how having access to one of these copies of God knows how many became a status symbol given the perception of Rooney’s work as intellectually inaccessible due to discussions around political ideologies and other literary bigwigs in her work. This genius stroke of subtle marketing has worked so well on me, that even though the book is available to the public as I write this, when I see online users posting photos with it, I’m perplexed. “YOU got your hands on one?” like it’s a fucking Birkin.
So what does Sally Rooney have to do with print magazines you ask, if she quite likely opposes everything they tend to stand for?
Keep that gate!!!
The age of the influencer has democratized the realm of recommendations for all areas of human life. In a digital world of paid ads, gifted stays, and an increasing consciousness of our persisting overconsumption, are we returning to more gate-kept, carefully curated sources to tell us what is actually worth our time and money?
Many influencers started off working in women’s media or even now act as contributing editors or specialists for magazine publications. These tastemakers are one part of a publication body, and before their work can go to print, they have to get past editors, who have the final say it what makes it in front of our eyes.
With AI’s growing threat to creative industry jobs, many are seeking content we know is human-made, out of solidarity and the desire for something with more soul. Our own appreciation for design and the work put in by photographers, graphic design artists, and the wholistic feel of print products (think details like beveling, foil, gift with purchase) is being recognized and acted upon.
What you read and your ability to display it in your home, your airport bag, and online all play a part of showing the world who you are. Do you collect Kinfolk, or are you a Nylon girly?
As someone studying design for art direction, editorial media is part of what lured me in. It goes without saying that the amassing passion for its resurgence excites me! While e-readers and online access is frankly more accessible for many, returning to the sensation of holding and leafing through a physical copy to explore up-and-comers and even important issues in the zeitgeist feels scholastic and humanizing. Vogue Scandinavia developed its own font, “Hilma”, used for its article headers, carving out its own design identity as one of many Vogues from around the globe. Seeing Sandy Liang preview a catalogue that may not be embellished with lots of fanciful details the way an editorial spread in a magazine would, but still allowing for play with the aesthetics of print media like text and product shots. With the return of 0000s trends and aesthetics, it feels like we’re bringing back the medium itself instead of simply referencing it; Tweaking it for an era where we’re trying to slow down and disconnect while still making space to appreciate design and pop culture’s intertwined significance.
Recently, before a Ryan Air flight from London I needed to add weight to my suitcase and dropped into a W.H. Smith where I added British Vogue, a double-decker doozie Dazed, and Grazia UK to my basket. Nice.
Delving into the different magazines I’ve loved throughout my life would be a reflective trip down memory lane, but I’ve droned on for long enough now. Another time, perhaps.
As a footnote, I really want to recommend Viv Chen of The MoleHill’s piece:
dear j.crew, i'll never be your best american girl
Are you excited for a revival in print media production? What did you grow up reading, and what do you read now?