Â For a pioneering men's fashion mag, American GQ's fashion sensibilities are surprisingly bad.
If only it stopped there. The writing is incredibly uneven, from departments to features. In particular, Farenheit is predominantly atrocious, as are the "humor" pieces; the Guy Food column is mostly about how to die young from cardio-pulmonary diseases; and Joe Queenan, while an occasional hoot, is also a nearly complete waste of space (and I'm not sure that just applies to his column). How about the editorial cluelessness? In the 12/02 issue, we've got Lucy Kaylin going inexplicably ga-ga for "the goddess" J. Ho (maybe Lucy is "Elizabeth" from Gordon Bass' inane "I'm Dating a Lesbian" piece), while Jennifer Egan's more measured piece on Madonna"”you know, the last generation's non-singing, non-dancing, non-writing, non-acting superstar"”makes valid points about why Madonna is nonetheless important, which loudly begs the question of why anyone would think Lopez is. I guess because her nearly nude body sells magazines, and once again hammers home GQ's relentless "we're not gay, honest." message. Of course, when you finally do get to the fashion pages, there are too few of them, and much of what is there is photographed so you can't tell anything about how the clothes look. I have no idea how they pick which items to feature, but it certainly has nothing to do with stylistic vision. But, hey, my wife gave me a subscription, so I read Glenn O'Brien and, otherwise, hope for the best each month.