Monthly Archives: January 2013

CTG has gone MIA

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I struggled with whether or not to blog about this, but since everyone keeps asking…

Know this, though: I’m 75% writing this for you, 20% writing this for all single girls out there, and 5% writing this as a form of venting. Truly.

So yeah. MIA and I can’t explain it. (No, I will not rehash the step-by-step incidents that led up to his radio silence so that you can offer your own theories.) I’ve been pondering it way more than I care to admit, and the thing is, it’s just…inexplainable.

But you see, that’s the thing. I don’t need a whole who/what/when/where/why. (This coming from a journalist!) My issue is, why not give a girl the head’s up? What’s with the disappearing act?

To quote my sister:

FYI. We don’t give a shit that you don’t like us, just let us know.

Even if it’s just a text to tell me you didn’t go for a run and fall in a ditch somewhere. (Cause, actually, that thought has crossed my mind. That, or his phone broke. Or my phone broke. Or he’s out of town. Or…or…) And I really don’t think this is me being a Delusional Single Girl. All signs pointed to him being into me, and vice versa. I mean, the staff at work declared him my boyfriend. (A whopper of a topic for another time: How going on three dates with one guy means You + Him = Couple. MENTAL!)

Was CTG just afraid of hurting my feelings? After three dates, I don’t know any woman who’d prefer MIA to Honesty.

At the end of the day, I’m not devastated. A little disappointed, yes. But I had a wee-of-a-whirlwind romance just days after arriving, so the way I see it, it was a Win. It’s just too bad he didn’t live up to be the proper Englishman he seemed to be. Turns out, British men may not be much different from American men after all.

Tally-ho, then!

Press day: Fabulous-stylee

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What’s stylee, you ask? Oh, it’s just another way of saying style. There’s a lot of word-enhancing here at Fabulous. Definitely a place where terms like “amazeballs” fit in just fine. Hey, there’s a time and a place, and this is it. I think it’s fun.

As I top edit the fashion, beauty, health, home, dating and travel pages, there’s been a bit of a learning curve to decipher which of these words are actually well-known and used frequently, and which are just us having a go at coining the next cheeky catchphrase.

Since today was press day, I got to flex my witty word reportage by helping to come up with coverlines. So far, it’s one of my favorite parts of the job. Today was my third time getting involved since starting, but because we work so far in advance here, the issue we closed today (Feb. 10) is the one I’ve been most involved with from (sorta) start to finish. And whatddayaknow, it’s the Love Issue. Here I thought I’d get to escape the dreadful Hallmark holiday that is V-Day by moving to another country. Oh no. We’ve got hearts. We’ve got lingerie. We’ve got blozzers. (How’s that for a word? Use your imagination, then read it in context when the mag’s out in two weeks. Sworn to secrecy on the rest!)

So sometime around midday, the department and sub editors send their suggestions to Sinead (the deputy) who then combines them all on one document, which is brought to a meeting with myself, Beth (another assistant editor), and Rachel, the editor. The four of us then mix, swap, combine and rejigger until we get them just right. Then, Rachel sends them to Mark, the creative director, who works his magic in fitting them onto the cover and voila! We’ve made a Fabulous. So far, it’s been relatively no-fuss, but I’m told there will be nights when the brain’s just got gas and we’ll be there for hours having a think for the ultimate pun. All those years editing SNAPS, I say bring it on!

Rewinding a bit, the editing/proof process is very streamlined. Once a story idea has been pitched in conference and approved by Rachel, I don’t really see it again until it lands on my desk in a “job bag.” It’s an actual plastic bag (see below). I can’t say I get the plastic bag system, but it probably comes in handy when someone spills water on the desk. Plus, those words are precious!

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Job bag to the left, flatplan on clipboard to the right.

By that point, photo requests have been submitted and the copy’s been edited by Carly, the Acting Lifestyle Editor. There’s even a suggested sell. Then I get to line-editing, which I’ve been doing on paper. (Back at home, I usually edit on-screen in our publishing platform.) I’m enjoying getting to use the proper proofing marks I learned back in J-school! Once I make my edits, I put it back in the job bag and give it back to Carly who then enters the changes in Word and sends it to subs (copy desk). They then give it a read and hand it over to design to place on the layout. Aside from briefly discussing/approving a hand-drawn layout suggestion with Carly, the next time I see the feature is when it’s been fully designed, and dropped in my inbox as a proof. At that point, if I have another suggested hed or want to change a photo, I can discuss with Rachel and do so. But here’s the biggest shocker to me: Once I make my marks/changes on the layout, I don’t see it again! At P6M, we see proofs THREE TIMES (in first, second and final stages). And in PULSE, the editors themselves are responsible for cutting copy to fit, inputting changes and writing captions, whereas here, subs do it all. At the end of the day, it’s all very tomato, tomAHto, or as I like to say, ”same, same, but different,” but I’m definitely learning lots of new methods to the journalism madness!

Oh, remember how I said we were putting together a “Birthday Issue”? Well, we had a (ahem) fabulous cake made for one of the features and it was just too pretty not to show off. We had it displayed on the 6th floor so that everyone at 3TM could see it when they went to get their breakie or lunch at the canteen:

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Happy 5th Birthday Fabulous!

Then we ate it.

We had our cake and ate it, too! Mmmm.

We had our cake and ate it, too! Mmmm.

Issue closed!

It’s bikini weather!

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I’m a Brit, so I thought I’d write another blog about the weather because we love nothing more than the weather. The ups, the downs, the disappointments, the surprises, the drama, Michael Fish.

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It’s been fricking freezing since I arrived in New York. So cold that more than one New Yorker has apologised to me. As if the city ought to have been more accommodating to this newcomer. Despite the blue skies and sunshine – joy after the Tupperware lid skies of a London winter – I have found myself gazing in envy at the Bergdorf Blondes in their enormous furs. I scuttle home, blowing on my fingers in their fraying mittens to Google ‘ethical fur New York’ before heading to Prince Street to fondle $600 duckdown and rabbit hats in Moncler.

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But the cold shopping war is over! It’s practically spring! Check out the forecast for today – 13C – a full 24C increase on last week. Weather win! To celebrate I’m heading to Miami for the weekend. It’s bikini weather.

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Ain’t no “One Direction”

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No, this is not about those four cute British boys who drive teenagers (and maybe a few 30-somethings) absolutely “mental” these days. Though, I must say, they’ve been in the news a bunch lately. Specifically Zayn Malik, whose pretty sleeping face made the “Splash” (front page) of the Sun on Sunday because he had a romp with an Aussie blond that wasn’t his girlfriend. (It’s juicy stuff. I won’t get offended if you take a detour to read it.)

But rather I’m actually talking about navigation.

See, back home, I am lucky enough to live in a relatively central part of the West Village. I’m a hop and a skip away from several train lines — the B/D/F/V at W. 4th, the F/V at 14th, 1 at Christopher, the 2/3 at 14th, the A/C/E at 14th and W. 4th….OK you get the point. Depending on which train I take home, I know the blocks to walk down to get home in a timely and safe manner. Every so often I take a detour. A detour that I know will get me home. In once piece.

Here in London, as you recall, I am living in Way-the-F Wapping, which is waaaaaaay far from nearly any other neighborhood, but at least relatively near a major tube station (Tower Hill.) To be fair, I’m told no matter where you live in London you should expect to travel at least 40 minutes to get anywhere else, so at least I’m not alone here. And at least — sorry La-La friends — I don’t have to drive.

In trekking to and from the tube these past two weeks (it’s about a 10 minute walk), I’ve become less afraid of the Big Bad Intersection that I have to cross to get to said station. (Seriously, it’s no joke. I’ve crossed at many-a-maze-like intersections in my life — Bangkok, Istanbul, that spot where Bedford, Houston and Sixth Ave. meet — but this one is insane. It doesn’t help that the cars are coming from the, ahem, one direction I’m NOT trained to look.

Still, if I can avoid it, I can and will, and have been trying out new routes every time I go to, or arrive back at, Tower Hill.

One time, discovered I could cross a block before it, and avoid a whole section. Another day, I realized if I took a set of steps from the exit of the tube station, it’d take me to the opposite side of the street, avoiding two whole other sections, leaving me with just one or two to courageously cross. But yesterday was the piece de resistance. I took the same steps down, but instead of going back up on that side of the road, I noticed a sign for the “Wall Walk.” Intrigued, I decided to follow it. And lo! Look at the view I had while walking in the direction I needed to go:

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No cars. No buses. No “look right, look left” precautions on the streets. No BBI! I felt like I had stepped back in time. And I sorta had — to the medieval times! I’ll spare you the history lesson, but I psyched that my “commute” could now take me off the modern, busy streets, through the one-time moats and tunnels of latter day London! Sigh. And THAT’S what makes you beautiful, London.

(For the record, I just listened to that song. Twice. Don’t judge.)