As far as I can remember, I have always been surrounded by magazines. Not in a kind of creepy nightmare where thousands of magazines would attack me and would do anything to turn me into a glazed paper picture. No, when I was a kid, there were literally hundreds of magazines around me. About decorating, cooking or fashion. All ordered in neat piles or lined up on shelves. At that time (just after the death of the last dinosaur), there was no internet and magazines were the only sources we had to get some weekly, specific news. I can remember reading my mum's ELLE and discovering an infinite world of beauty and passion: the world of Fashion. Yves Saint Laurent, Karl Lagerfeld, John Galliano, Jean Paul Gaultier or Sonia Rykiel, those were the iconic names I tried to remember because, secretly and intimately, I knew that one day they would be useful to me. And that day came but that's another story.

As I grew up, cinema took the place of fashion (but it did not go very far, always in some corners of my mind and still in my mother's magazines) and frantically, I collected, read and learnt everything I could. There was some hunger inside me I needed to calm down. This passion lasted for some years and one day, this hunger was gone. I didn't need to dream about a movie life any longer. I needed fashion back in my life. So much better. I bought my first fashion magazine (Numéro Homme Hors Série) at the beginning of 2006 for two reasons: I wanted to learn about Men's Fashion (in my provincial city, there was no good example of what was Men's fashion) and there was Jamie "50 Shades of Grey" Dornan on the cover whom I had a crush on. And this is how it started. As soon as a Men's Fashion magazine was out, I bought it (Vogue Hommes International, L'officiel Hommes...) even though I had to eat less. I had found my way but at the end of the day, Men's Fashion seemed at that time rather caught between something too formal or something outrageously sexy. I was not (and still am) into tuxedos and three-piece suits and the Versace aesthetics did not work very well on me... Magazines were not into the street culture as they are now so, I decided to widen my scope. I had to become a Vogue reader and to start analyzing every single page of this Fashion Bible that was at the time, ruled by Carine Roitfeld the Great. I had stopped dreaming when I quited movie magazines, I started again with Vogue. At that time, I needed to dream more that anything else. 

My 1st Fashion Magazine (Spring Summer 2006)
My 1st Vogue Paris (September 2007)
A few months after my first Vogue, I left my grey, dull, sad, depressing, suffocating city to move to a much more different place where I met the other half of W.A.R.M. (and of myself). At that time, Yves Saint Laurent was dying, Karl Lagerfeld more almighty than ever, John Galliano still at the head of Dior, Jean Paul Gaultier was starting to repeat himself and Sonia Rykiel already weakened but new names were on everybody's lips: Alexander Wang, Proenza Schouler, Thom Browne, Nicolas Ghesquière or Christopher Kane and this was so exciting! Just like me, Yann was fond of fashion magazines and so Vogue was clearly not enough to discover and understand all the facets of Fashion. I-D, Pop, WAD, Dazed & Confused, LOVE, 10 and others (not to mention CR Fashion Book) made their appearance on our coffee table, in our shelves, on our desk, in our bags, near our bed. Ordered in neat piles or lined up. I really don't know how are we gonna do when we will move. Lord knows how heavy cartons full of magazines are! I can't imagine giving them up because even if I don't read them every single day. I love the fact that they are here. I love having shelves full of magazines and books.

I know that nowadays with the internet, all these magazines have digital versions and all the things I could read in their pages are already somewhere to be found. But it is stronger than me, I can't help myself buying them, reading them, collecting them. I must be crazy. Every month, I tell myself (and Yann) "This is the last time I'm buying Vogue Paris" (since Carine Roitfeld left, the French Vogue has grown boring and without surprise; the British version is definitely better) and every month I buy Vogue despite Yann's disapproving eyes. I don't know if there is some kind of rehab for the fashion magazine addiction and even if it did exist, I don't know if I'd like to be cured. I love so much this peculiar feeling I have when I am skimming through a magazine, discovering new ad campaigns or editorials or when I am waiting for the LOVE covers to be revealed. But above all, I love reading fashion magazines over Yann's shoulder and looking at the photographs with him; this feeling is by far the best.

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