Weekend Reading

Yes, it's orange.
Smug Esquire.

Friday I had one of those days where I just wanted to power off. File->shutdown my mind and disconnect from everything that vies for my attention. No more blackberry, e-mail, phone calls, blog rolls, etc. I wanted a CIA hit put out on my devices. Blackbag them all... dunk them in water and hook their little electronic testicles up to jumper cables. Take. Them. Out. It all just gets to be too much sometimes and I yearn for a technological quarantine. That's when I like to simplify with ink on paper.

Lucky I awoke yesterday morning (alright, technically afternoon) to a gray and overcast Saturday. Perfect for guilt free seclusion indoors and a chance to catch up on much overdue reading. Before grabbing a sandwich from the local deli I ran into Barnes and Noble to pick up the last of my weekend reading list. The night prior, while waiting for a friend to finish her shift, I wandered into a Hudson news in Grand Central Terminal and noticed that the Spring 2010 issue of Esquire's Big Black Book had been released.

Barnes and Noble is an interesting and frustrating place - causing me to wonder what people have against working in the sanctity of their own home. The magazine stand/cafe was booming with tea swilling, laptop wielding, trendy academics, making it near impossible to get anywhere close to the merchandise. It's like any Starbucks window you've ever seen x 1,000. After bending, weaving, squirming, limboing, shimmying and excusing my way around fellow patrons (and I use that term loosely as none of them seemed to have actually bought anything) I finally secured a copy of the BBB and was on my way, feeling like I had just finished a floor routine at a gymnastics meet.

Now I am a devout reader of GQ and even looking at the cover of an Esquire makes me feel like a philandering libertine. I have a deep loyalty to the magazine and its staff of excellent writers who consistently keep me in the know. Much like a dog seeing his master after the abandonment of a workday, there is little else that can excite me more than a copy of GQ spilling out of my tiny metallic mailbox each month. It's cherished pages are like babies giggling, flowers blooming or the sun shining to most normal people. Pathetic - yes. But it's the truth.

The Big Black Book is the exception. It's the roving eye to my otherwise faithful relationship. A tawdry affair, providing me with something that my glossy spouse can't give me. The Big Black Book has carved out a niche in how to showcase a gentlemanly lifestyle. The writing highlights diverse topics not found in normal monthly magazines. There is a presence to this book as a whole that ups the ante on sartorial knowledge. Even the advertising is less intrusive and offers a reason to stare. Currently working in the industry, I find this publication to have brilliant photography, fantastic layouts and unique editorial content that all culminates in near perfect printing.

This issue includes:

• Spotlights on luggage and advanced chronographs designed for varying purposes
• A Trad Trad Trad World - Traditional Prep Staples
• Away We Go - Spring Style for the Man of Adventure
• How to Dress for Golf - More Arnold Palmer, less Rodney Dangerfield
• The New Recruits - Historic lables get a boost from a new lot of designers
• Summer Party Style and Knowledge for Buying a Summer Suit
• And, as always a highly educational Maintenance section printed on old school tinted uncoated paper.  Offers insight on everything from the anatomy of a shoe to the rules of showing chest hair or how to make your own collar stays in a pinch.

My cheating ways are an act I'm not proud of but one that will continue to entice me and quench my lust for obscure stylistic information. It fulfills the piece of me that GQ can't. I can only hope that my magazine of record can act the political wife and turn a blind eye.

Pick up a copy at most major newsstands for $9.95. Well worth the price for the sartorially minded.