GQ'd
let me say that I seldom go off about shoes
First off, I will admit that I'd not likely have written about a magazine had not Sean written such a bang-up piece about Glamour Magazine. I'd not likely have written this had I not received a copy of GQ in the post, either. And the last bit is the pointy Dolce and Gabbana shoes.
The periodical itself came in a plastic wrapper, sanitized for my protection I assumed, but upon opening it, I was smacked in the beezer by a sample scent by Ralph Lauren, not dissimilar to a variety of YSL I have used before in that it is obviously a citrus blend, not too fruity, with an undercurrent of yak musk.
Rampant on the cover is full-face portrait of Guy Pearce, with the title "Guy Pearce Exposes Himself." In the upper right corner of the cover is a little black ribbon urging me, "Buy this magazine or the terrorists have won," and more political than I had noticed GQ to be from passing glances on the newsstand, "THE WAR: Bob Drury Rides into Battle with the Northern Alliance," "Does Bin Laden Have Suitcase Nukes?" and "Feeding the Afghans." The rest of the pieces are more typical GQ fare.
But this pair of Dolce & Gabbana shoes of page 24, let me say that I seldom go off about shoes, but these are some very nice what
one might call "fence-climbers," obviously handmade of the hide of some Third World sweatshop person and, just guessing, about
$1,200.
Some of the scotch ads, they are for blended scotch, but I'd have thought that there would be ads for single malts. "The Style Guy," GQ's advisory council, has a funny cartoon of some "jug champagne," as if it were some California Mountain Wine. The impetus for the art was a question written in by a thirsty and romantic young gentleman wondering if there weren't some cheaper domestic bubbly that might be imbibed of an evening without making him appear cheap to his date. I would have mentioned Asti, but GQ did recommend Perrier, which I would have done also, but I like the jeroboam that comes in a nice wood crate.
I hesitate to look at the kind of political editorializing that GQ might carry, my own politics being alternately to the right of Attila the Hun and to the left of whoopee! But to tell the truth, GQ looks like it carries just enough fluff content and softcore boy porn to justify a maximal load of pricey ad space. Provocative, but not disturbing, just the kind of orientation one would hope for in the contemporary urban dweller: lots of "Gung" but not too much "ho."
The periodical itself came in a plastic wrapper, sanitized for my protection I assumed, but upon opening it, I was smacked in the beezer by a sample scent by Ralph Lauren, not dissimilar to a variety of YSL I have used before in that it is obviously a citrus blend, not too fruity, with an undercurrent of yak musk.
Rampant on the cover is full-face portrait of Guy Pearce, with the title "Guy Pearce Exposes Himself." In the upper right corner of the cover is a little black ribbon urging me, "Buy this magazine or the terrorists have won," and more political than I had noticed GQ to be from passing glances on the newsstand, "THE WAR: Bob Drury Rides into Battle with the Northern Alliance," "Does Bin Laden Have Suitcase Nukes?" and "Feeding the Afghans." The rest of the pieces are more typical GQ fare.
But this pair of Dolce & Gabbana shoes of page 24, let me say that I seldom go off about shoes, but these are some very nice what
one might call "fence-climbers," obviously handmade of the hide of some Third World sweatshop person and, just guessing, about
$1,200.
Some of the scotch ads, they are for blended scotch, but I'd have thought that there would be ads for single malts. "The Style Guy," GQ's advisory council, has a funny cartoon of some "jug champagne," as if it were some California Mountain Wine. The impetus for the art was a question written in by a thirsty and romantic young gentleman wondering if there weren't some cheaper domestic bubbly that might be imbibed of an evening without making him appear cheap to his date. I would have mentioned Asti, but GQ did recommend Perrier, which I would have done also, but I like the jeroboam that comes in a nice wood crate.
I hesitate to look at the kind of political editorializing that GQ might carry, my own politics being alternately to the right of Attila the Hun and to the left of whoopee! But to tell the truth, GQ looks like it carries just enough fluff content and softcore boy porn to justify a maximal load of pricey ad space. Provocative, but not disturbing, just the kind of orientation one would hope for in the contemporary urban dweller: lots of "Gung" but not too much "ho."