• by Larry Dobrow , Featured Columnist, April 1, 2005

Most recent magazine launches have been heralded with an eight-trumpet fanfare, the unfurling of ceremonial bunting, and the release of a lone white dove as the publisher rings the opening bell at the New York Stock Exchange. Alas, 18 months post-recession, the question practically begs to be asked: has there been more fizzle than sizzle?

Bucolic Abode offered little of the khaki-clad glory of Cottage Dwelling and its ilk, while Things You Can Buy In Stores Or On The Internet Or Sometimes Over The Phone barely strayed from the now-tired shop-'til-you-drop prototype. With 20/20 hindsight, it's fair to say that not a single 2004-2005 launch has lived up to its advance billing.

Until now. Melding the best elements of Real Simple, In Touch Weekly, Lucky, Cooking Light, and Avery Cardoza's Player, the soon-to-debut Full House Beautiful serves up a generous heaping of magaziney goodness. Thought to be the first in a wave of everything-under-the sun general-interest pubs, Full House Beautiful practically dares all aspirants to the throne to up the ante.

Produced by Time Inc. for exclusive sale at JCPenney, Full House Beautiful (FHB) seamlessly fuses shelter-mag mainstays with libelous gossip, tarragon-accented recipes, shopping finds, and celebrity poker tips. Ordinarily such a broad topical palette would come across as meandering - or, worse, self-indulgent - but FHB pulls it off with elegance and aplomb. Why it works: every last nugget of advice comes straight from A-list dignitaries like Star Jones (celeb dirt), Star Jones (home design), Star Jones (nutrition), Star Jones (shopping) and Mickey Rourke (poker/home confinement).

And those who mourn the passing of Rosie will be thrilled to learn that everyone's favorite bawdy, rotund comedienne has been inked for a regular front-of-the-book column. In the debut issue, she cracks wise on everything from same-sex bathrooms to same-sex cruises. Her rapier-like wit is matched only by her otherworldly gift for ferreting out social injustices.

The May/June debut issue of Full House Beautiful makes the collected works of Gustave Flaubert look like a steaming pile of giraffe turd by comparison. In its first cover story, the mag hits one out of the park, getting the scoop on Brad and Jen's posh Aspen poker villa. Full of pictures - do we see a hot tub out back? Methinks we do! - the story illuminates how their thorny relationship could well have been prolonged by the tripartite solution of lush Southwestern tapestries, egg white, feta, and tarragon omelets, and Texas Hold'Em.

Equally fascinating is a look at a new breed of breakfast nook, which taps elements of postmodern and preancient design. It's not just for bacon anymore, as the luscious photo spread of breakfast meats announces with authority. Separately, who would have thought Ving Rhames could do such marvelous things with stir-fry?

But FHB's defining moment is the first in its series of "Celebrity Poker Picnics," this one hosted by happy-go-lucky songstress Fiona Apple. Plush with gingham blankets and rainbows shimmering above, the photo essay chronicles an afternoon replete with good conversation, tasty morsels, and a $250 buy-in. When it's not agape with utter and all-consuming awe, your mouth will water at the very thought of Marv Albert's tarragon turkey tubes.

All this isn't to say that Full House Beautiful is without a limp moment or two. For instance, the cast of "Three Men and a Baby" seems an incongruous choice to usher readers through a wild Vegas shoe-shopping-and-poker jaunt. Isn't what happens in Vegas supposed to stay in Vegas? I'm looking at you, Steve Guttenberg.

Full House Beautifulredefines the concept of magazine journalism for the new millennium, as well as for all the other millenniums and millennia. If you don't read it cover-to-cover every month, I won't be your friend.

Most recent magazine launches have been heralded with an eight-trumpet fanfare, the unfurling of ceremonial bunting, and the release of a lone white dove as the publisher rings the opening bell at the New York Stock Exchange. Alas, 18 months post-recession, the question practically begs to be asked: has there been more fizzle than sizzle?

Bucolic Abode offered little of the khaki-clad glory of Cottage Dwelling and its ilk, while Things You Can Buy In Stores Or On The Internet Or Sometimes Over The Phone barely strayed from the now-tired shop-'til-you-drop prototype. With 20/20 hindsight, it's fair to say that not a single 2004-2005 launch has lived up to its advance billing.

Until now. Melding the best elements of Real Simple, In Touch Weekly, Lucky, Cooking Light, and Avery Cardoza's Player, the soon-to-debut Full House Beautiful serves up a generous heaping of magaziney goodness. Thought to be the first in a wave of everything-under-the sun general-interest pubs, Full House Beautiful practically dares all aspirants to the throne to up the ante.

Produced by Time Inc. for exclusive sale at JCPenney, Full House Beautiful (FHB) seamlessly fuses shelter-mag mainstays with libelous gossip, tarragon-accented recipes, shopping finds, and celebrity poker tips. Ordinarily such a broad topical palette would come across as meandering - or, worse, self-indulgent - but FHB pulls it off with elegance and aplomb. Why it works: every last nugget of advice comes straight from A-list dignitaries like Star Jones (celeb dirt), Star Jones (home design), Star Jones (nutrition), Star Jones (shopping) and Mickey Rourke (poker/home confinement).

And those who mourn the passing of Rosie will be thrilled to learn that everyone's favorite bawdy, rotund comedienne has been inked for a regular front-of-the-book column. In the debut issue, she cracks wise on everything from same-sex bathrooms to same-sex cruises. Her rapier-like wit is matched only by her otherworldly gift for ferreting out social injustices.

The May/June debut issue of Full House Beautiful makes the collected works of Gustave Flaubert look like a steaming pile of giraffe turd by comparison. In its first cover story, the mag hits one out of the park, getting the scoop on Brad and Jen's posh Aspen poker villa. Full of pictures - do we see a hot tub out back? Methinks we do! - the story illuminates how their thorny relationship could well have been prolonged by the tripartite solution of lush Southwestern tapestries, egg white, feta, and tarragon omelets, and Texas Hold'Em.

Equally fascinating is a look at a new breed of breakfast nook, which taps elements of postmodern and preancient design. It's not just for bacon anymore, as the luscious photo spread of breakfast meats announces with authority. Separately, who would have thought Ving Rhames could do such marvelous things with stir-fry?

But FHB's defining moment is the first in its series of "Celebrity Poker Picnics," this one hosted by happy-go-lucky songstress Fiona Apple. Plush with gingham blankets and rainbows shimmering above, the photo essay chronicles an afternoon replete with good conversation, tasty morsels, and a $250 buy-in. When it's not agape with utter and all-consuming awe, your mouth will water at the very thought of Marv Albert's tarragon turkey tubes.

All this isn't to say that Full House Beautiful is without a limp moment or two. For instance, the cast of "Three Men and a Baby" seems an incongruous choice to usher readers through a wild Vegas shoe-shopping-and-poker jaunt. Isn't what happens in Vegas supposed to stay in Vegas? I'm looking at you, Steve Guttenberg.

Full House Beautiful redefines the concept of magazine journalism for the new millennium, as well as for all the other millenniums and millennia. If you don't read it cover-to-cover every month, I won't be your friend.

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