I don't have kids yet, but when I do, according to Cookie, if I have enough money, it's going to be a fashionable experience in which I will remain a size six. The front of the book introduces me to the chicest new baby clothes, the most expensive strollers, and an $850 stain-free play rug. I will be able teach my kids to drink from a cup using sleek Japanese Saki cups; I can take him or her to a "Madeleine" tea party at the Carlyle Hotel, and just in case I don't want to look like a boring mom, I can choose from a layout of fashion bags that also work as mommy bags.
There is a section devoted to traveling to chic places with children, and gourmet kid recipes from celebrity chefs like Sarah Moulton and Robert Stehling. A story on what to do if I hate my kid's friend's parents says I should "host a group play date in absentia" by hiring a babysitter and then taking off to meet a real friend for coffee. There is also a hilarious piece about the social rules for treating your friends who don't have kids. "Stop with the self-pitying asides about our sleep cycles, spending habits, and sex lives, like 'Must be nice to spend a week in Costa Rica and have a one-night stand with a 24-year-old surf instructor.' Yes it is nice, and we will not feel guilty about it."
The feature well has a good story on "tot rock," a fashion spread of modern kid rooms, and an odd story by journalist Lori Leibovich about her and our culture's obsession with celebrity motherhood, in which she proclaims that Gwyneth's pregnancy made her feel like she had more in common with the star.
The layouts are funky and the photos spreads are cool, but the main problem with Cookie is, I don't know very many parents who can actually afford the lifestyle the magazine is selling. But this doesn't mean the magazine won't do well. After all, we all need an escape, and I suspect Cookie does for parenting what Vogue does for the aspirational fashionista.