Boutiques! They're in, New York mag tells us this week. Generally found in such areas as the West Village, Cobble Hill, and Williamsburg, these usually woman-owned mini-stores cater to a particular population of twenty and thirtysomething women. Not quite hipsters, not quite preps, not quite socialites (or wannabes), these women—who toil in such industries as publishing (book and magazine, of course), advertising, and PR, with the odd teacher or non-profit employee thrown in (and maybe a lawyer looking for some weekend outfits)—will spend hundreds on the perfect pair of boots, or on a handbag. They own premium denim, but not anything immediately recognizable from the back pockets. They wear skirts and dresses, but avoid looking overly "girly." It's because the prevailing aesthetic among this demographic has become dictated almost entirely by Lucky magazine.
July, 1993. Sassy had just turned five years old, and wouldn't make it much longer. (On the cover: "My brother's gay. Big whoop.") A young lass named Kim France—Oberlin '87, now the editor in chief of Lucky—had recently left the magazine. Christina Kelly was newly Jane Pratt's number two, doing the real running of the mag. And so Sassy—Christina, we assume—gave Kim a rude send-off in the form of a fake advice letter about her rump. (Recent sightings of Kim France from behind reveal that her butt has not been exceptionally large in some time.) Click to enlarge for the full-page of "Dear Boy," with questions (real and fake) answered by J Mascis.