I'd like to propose a new rule for chi-chi shelter and luxury publications that celebrate consumption in all its glory: words should be dispensed with altogether. Seriously. You know that the handful
of readers who can afford the home treatments flogged in such titles are simply ripping out the pages that catch their fancy, thrusting those pages in the general direction of their on-retainer
interior decorators, and saying, "Do this." Clearly, the words are beside the point.
Such is the case with the June issue of Elle Decor, which attempts to make up for in shiny pix
what it lacks in originality and verbal dexterity. There's nothing here you haven't seen before in any number of luxe-livin' publications, but man, do the mag's designers ever present it elegantly.
Even a section that on the surface sounds duller than toast--an eight-page spread on summer house gifts--positively pops off the page. The layout is clean, and makes every featured item
look a hell of a lot more stylish than it probably is. Actually, I'm tempted to drop in on my drunken Jersey Shore buddies with one of the recommended gifts--say, the branch kamagong-wood salad
servers--and videotape their reactions for posterity.
Maybe that's the problem with Elle Decor: nearly every "story" elicits the exact same reaction. After poring over the feature
on style-savvy outdoor pools, I thought: "pretty." A run through designer Robert Stilin's East Hampton's house: pretty. A room-by-room romp around designer Kristen Panitch's Los Angeles abode: pretty.
I have nothing against mindless picture books, but after a while the routine gets tired.
On the other hand, these editorially minimalist photo spreads are considerably less painful to
peruse than any of the accompanying chunks of text. A spread on designer Susan Harris' house on Long Island Sound includes the single worst descriptive sentence in the history of recent American
journalism: "With the help of decorator Lynn Morgan, Harris has filled the room with comfortable upholstered pieces, slipcovered in SeaCloth patterns that look as if they might have been produced by
some unlikely love child of Billy Baldwin and Lilly Pulitzer, boldly colorful and reassuringly rational at the same time." So wait... Billy Baldwin's a designer now and he's boinking a Pulitzer? I'm
ashamed to exist in a civilization where I can get arrested for jaywalking, but not for reproducing such utter inanity.
Then there's the lead sentence in another house spread: "In all of
America, there's nothing quite as heartwarming as a historic, white-painted Colonial tucked away in a pretty New England village." Oh yeah? What about fuzzy baby ducks? The section headings also
linger in the neverland between cliché and platitude, offering up inspiration in the form of "What's Hot!," "Trend Alert," and "Great Ideas." Again, I plead: Pesky captions, be gone! Fie, banal
subheads! No more words! No more words!
Okay, I'm willing to waive the requirement for the editor's note, which does an admirable job of framing the debate over including design
knockoffs on the mag's pages. And surprisingly, some of the June issue's best moments occur when it leaves the living room: an item on a super-size retail emporium in Los Angeles, five shots of garden
gates, a pretty (natch) Cote d'Azur travelogue.
Overall, though, Elle Decor seems little more than a comely package--an ornately wrapped and ribboned gift box that ultimately
proves to be empty, if you will. It'll spruce up your coffee table, but it doesn't have much practical use beyond that.