Fashion lucky magazine

Oh, Lucky Man - Conde Nast magazine Cargo reflects male trend toward shopping

Byline: SIMON DUMENCO

Okay, so maybe James Truman isn't crazy.

When people have asked me what I thought of the prospects for the men's version of Lucky (to be known as Cargo) that Cond? Nast's editorial director, James Truman, is planning, I've always expressed grave doubts. Sure, the original Lucky - the self-described "magazine about shopping" for women - is a runaway success. In January its ratebase will jump to 900,000 (up from 500,000 at its launch in 2000), and the September issue will carry a record 195 pages of ads (up from a previous high of 166). Lucky's success is Truman's signature achievement at Cond? Nast.

But Lucky pour homme? I didn't get it. Or at least not until Queer Eye for the Straight Guy exploded.

The Bravo reality series, which features a five-man team of gay style experts who make over one straight guy a week, has been such a huge hit that it has become a bona fide cultural phenomenon and a touchstone for lofty meditations about the increasing acceptance of homosexuality in American culture.

But the truth is, the show isn't really about encouraging heterosexuals to get comfortable with homosexuals. The straight slobs who volunteer to be on the show are obviously already fine with the idea of man-on-man action - for other men, at least. It's the idea of man-on-store action they're squeamish about.

Each week, the show's five experts patiently walk a makeover candidate through a series of retail outlets - from clothing boutiques to furniture stores - showing the wide-eyed heterosexual the wonders contained within. The show is really about the joys and rewards of (gasp!) shopping for men! That's the breakthrough.

Conveniently, there's been a lot of buzz in marketing circles lately about a newish demographic label for straight men who aren't afraid to shop or get facials: metrosexuals. This neologism - which has been around since 1994, but only recently gained currency - may come as a surprise to ad directors, who for decades have been dragging fashion, d?cor, and even scent advertising into men's mags. (Or were those ads aimed at the closet gays not identified in the media kit?)

The last time I wrote about shopping-obsessed magazines like Lucky and In Style in this column, I referred to them as signs of the soul death of our culture. I got a flood of appreciative letters, but I also got one e-mail from an agitated woman in Houston. It read, in part: "If this is soul death, then we women have been acculturated to it, here in America, since birth. We are born to shop. Do not trivialize our national birthright! You, of all people, involved in this industry as you are, shouldn't point a finger. You are the Mephistopheles of the opera! Apologize!"

She was kidding, I think. But she was at least partly serious too, because she also wrote that "Women like to find things that we hope will in some way improve our lives." She cited mascara and earrings as examples. "These small items increase our confidence in ourselves.... Their purchase might result in nabbing a desired job, or even in landing a particular house when it first comes on the market if the neighborhood one wishes to buy into is picky. Etc."

Okay. Point taken. In fact, it's this very American way of looking at life - shopping as self-improvement, shopping as a means to gain a social edge - that is the key to the success of Lucky.

And I think it's also going to be the key to the success of Lucky for men.

Queer Eye helped me see that. Because the real grass-roots discourse surrounding the show (what fans, as opposed to high-minded cultural commentators, have to say) is rather revolutionary: Every straight guy I know who has seen the show (and is automatically obsessed with it) has a bit of a "holy shit!" response. As in, "Holy shit, they made that guy's apartment look a zillion times better!" And: "Who knew a trim and some hair product could make a guy look like so much less of a tool?" There's an aspirational angle, too. If that dork can get a cool look and a nice pad, so can this dork at home - if he's willing to shop, that is.

Men, unlike women, have never thought of shopping as a competitive sport (perhaps because they think of competitive sport as competitive sport). But the conversation surrounding Queer Eye suggests that straight guys are more than ready to take on this indoor sport.

Meanwhile, lucky Truman is seeing the cable-tv phenomenom prepare the market for Cargo. Metrosexuals - as well as good old-fashioned homosexual readers - were already predisposed to walk right up to the newsstand and pick up a shopping mag. But Queer Eye is helping run-of-the-mill heartland straight men (suburbosexuals?) come around to the idea that informed shopping is a worthy leisure-time pursuit.

Of course, I think that this latest bit of shopping fetishism amounts to Soul Death for the Straight Guy - but don't tell that to the woman in Houston.

"The Glossies" columnist Simon Dumenco can be reached at sd17@aol.com.