Dissertation: In Defense of GQ

-My frustration came to a head last month. A realization that had been slowly building in the back of my mind, a betrayal by a good friend, had finally become clear to me: Most of the content in the April issue of Gentleman’s Quarterly did not interest me. 
-I’ve read nearly every GQ since I became a subscriber in 2002. When I first left for college in 2006 I threw out four years worth of magazines. Every issue since then, save for a few that have been inexplicably misplaced, now sit organized neatly on a shelf in the last place that I’ll reside as a college student. Keeping all these issues doesn’t make me any cooler than any other dedicated or casual reader, but the ever-growing stacks serve as a great resource to me when I need them. I recently purchased a khaki-colored chino sport coat, and I was having trouble figuring out what to wear beneath it. I grabbed a couple spring issues from the past few years off the shelf and casually perused, looking for anything that might help me craft some sensible looks around my new jacket. Flipping through the pages from years past was strangely nostalgic. It’s odd how I could clearly remember individual pages, stories and editorials. I found what I was looking for, a couple ideas of how to wear a khaki sport coat, but I also found myself remembering why I loved the magazine. When I started reading GQ there were no blogs, no online magazines or style forums. As a young man trying to set myself apart from my peers through my style, GQ offered guidance and helped to keep me from pushing my stylistic expression a little too far. I tried to figure out what was different now. Why can’t I get into the issue? What's missing?
-Nothing is missing, except my younger self and the lack of pretentiousness with which I used to approach the publication. The pages still contain the same helpful advice and smartly styled editorials they are known for. It’s me that is different. Flipping through the April issue’s guidelines for budget conscious shopping, tailoring and eBay finagling I found myself, like I’m sure many of you did, more informed on matters of style and shopping than the intended GQ audience. I’m not suggesting that the editors and writers of GQ do not possess more knowledge and insight than myself, I am confidently certain that they do, it’s that they craft content for an audience that wants to know, not one that knows.

-So why should we continue to support GQ even if we know how to measure for a custom shirt, match patterned shirts and ties without looking like we got dressed in the dark, or how to roll our chinos to show just enough ankle peeking out of our ocean-soaked Top-Siders? Because the magazine isn’t for us anymore; it’s for the guy who might not spend hours reading blogs and forums researching which pair of raw denim is best for his build. Obviously, I love the style blogosphere. I love the proliferation of unique points of view the Internet offers. But I’m a GQ subscriber, and I’ll probably be one for life. Not only because the magazine initially fueled my desire to pursue a career in journalism, and not because I’ve been to a print-shop and smelled the oddly agreeable aroma of ink as it lathers huge sheets of uncut paper. But because it’s an important publication, plain and simple, and just because I feel like I could give much of the same advice as the magazine, doesn’t mean the kid ransacking the thrift shop for vintage ties won’t find the same guidance and inspiration in GQ that I once did.