"Haven't we spent enough time cleaning out our closets?" a friend recently asked while checking out the cover of the October issue of Real Simple. The magazine's lead cover line is "Conquer the Clutter: 46 Real-Life Closet Solutions." My first question is, what would be a un-real-life solution- something that you shouldn't try at home? Something only Martha Stewart would perform on TV?

I've never been much of a fan of the whole "guest editor" gimmick. Yes, readers tend to get a bit of a different presentation--photos and interviews and all that--but more often than not, it comes across as a sad, transparent grab for attention by both title and erstwhile K-list editor alike ("Kelly Osbourne's taking over this month's CosmoGIRL! and it's gonna be OUTRAGEOUS!"). Thus when the November Surfer arrived on the local newsstand with its front cover heralding "The Guest Editor Issue," I expected the usual mix of sanitized babble and faux exclusives.

Metropolitan Home has managed to find an excellent balance between the world of traditional décor and high modern design, and the new world of masstique and do-it-yourself.

Either the magazine racks of this fine nation are positively teeming with spirituality/mental wellness titles nowadays, or I simply stalled in front of the wrong Barnes & Noble kiosk the other day during my publication-pursuing constitutional. Seriously--it seems like every patchouli-scented healer sort has publisher aspirations and, somehow, the financial wherewithal to act upon them.

In the age of "masstique" décor books like Domino, In Style Home and O at Home, Elle Décorhas become insidery and downright trade-magazine-like.

As a rule, I like stuff that is cool, especially when accompanied by a giga-decibel soundtrack of explosions and AC/DC. So the cover of the October/November Air & Space/Smithsonian felt right up my alley, what with its glam shot of the F/A-22 Raptor fighter plane soaring majestically over an ocean blue.

I worked for Wired magazine in 1997 in San Francisco, just before it was dubbed the "Rolling Stone of the digital age." Wired is now owned by Conde Nast -- and that company's influence is seen in both bad and good ways.

Fitness seems to be among the handful of mass-market titles that has developed a consistent and compelling events strategy, whether four-mile runs/sampling smorgasbords in Central Park or demonstration-happy editor meet-and-greets at Nordstrom's. Forgive me, then, if I wonder aloud (er, in print) about who's minding the shop back home.

Crossing Main Street in East Hampton this past summer, an insightful friend noticed that the sadness of the rich in this town was palpable. There was something about the way the residents, all swathed in designer beach clothes, passed the brand-name stores, that felt oppressive on what was supposed to be a carefree summer day.

When Britney Spears Federline popped out her little Cheeto earlier this month, it should have ranked among the greatest moments in lowbrow celebrity journalism.