women's magazines

The leaves on my maples were teeny-tiny green spots against blue sky two weeks ago. This morning they form a lush blanket of oxygen-expelling softness, hiding my neighbors from sight. Their growth was rapid. Almost dizzying. It was time.
The next day, I found myself sitting in a vintage armchair in the spacious, light-filled, on-street studio storefront of Fioravanti. They make slow clothing and just opened a few weeks ago.
My 41st birthday is Monday. I'm taking myself to Orcas Island for the long weekend because I want to go slow.
I set out last year to create a new kind of magazine for women. One with no advertising that inspires and enlightens, gives voice to the heart, and celebrates true beauty.
Sample copies of Issue Two of Lucia arrived last week. I was so overwhelmed with my day job and the accompanying client communications (emails, deadlines, deliverables) that for a couple of hours I just let the FedEx box sit on my kitchen table. Unopened.
I think the real potential -- the ability to inspire and enlighten -- comes not with the number of followers one has or the size of the audience they reach, but with the meaningful exchanges that can only happen when there is a well-trodden path from one heart to another.
Everything we do creatively has already been done. In fact, someone else is probably doing it right now.
Much of society runs on conspicuous consumption. On top of this, though it may be shifting, women are objectified and taught to self-objectify. Why should I comply to someone else's standard of beauty and why is beauty held on a pedestal as the most sought after value anyway?
I refused to spend any more time or energy investing in someone else's ideas of girl culture or womanhood, not to mention the serious, serious doubts I had about all those sex tips. I decided I no longer wanted to be a part of supporting a culture that capitalizes on girls' self-doubts and insecurities.