So I looked at the mags I had been buying, and they were mostly interiors glossies, with product-laden editorials, voyeuristic shoots of people's fabulous homes, fodder for consumerism really. Yes, there were a few good ideas, inspiring colors and aesthetics, but I could see the same stories being used again and again, in a whole lot of different mags. Even though I'd been reading them each month, it wasn't until I quickly flipped through them all in the last minute cull of images that I realized how tired I was of the whole scene.
So my New Years' reading resolution/revelation came to me in a medical waiting room, full of people, full of glossy gossipy mags. I spied the familiar yellow border, a sentimental reminder of time spent reading about the world, the cultures, people, natural beauty and wondrous spectacle. National Geographic.
The funny thing about this new addiction, is that what used to be my quiet time with a cup of tea, usually when Hazel had just gone down for her daytime nap, has become family discussion time. We all flick through together and talk about what we're seeing. Hazel loved the story of the orphaned elephants, Leo couldn't stop looking at the images of dissected bodies, I'm inspired by the Berber people and their traditional robes, oh and the Sami people of Lapland too.
My mind is full of maps, places I want to visit, and obscure facts with which to impress my learned Dad. I know about the huge caves discovered in Vietnam, the reduced birth rate in Brazil, the salt flats at Lake Eyre in South Australia and the wing-suit flying phenomenon.
The only problem is that I may end up having huge stacks of Nat G mags around the house, as I am unlikely to be able to cull this collection!
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