I spent half an hour at Logan Airport the other evening tearing through Vanity Fair - actually, it was more like tearing up the magazine - to get rid of the noxious perfume drenched inserts that were making me sneeze and giving me a pounding headache. Who was the marketer who thought up that one?
I would get it, if not like it, if I were reading Elle or Vogue or some other fashionista mag, but this was Vanity Fair. I really did want to read the depressing "decline of the West" article by Niall Ferguson, thank you. Overcome with angst, yes; overcome by fumes, no.
My advice to Vanity Fair: charge a premium for people who want to buy a parfum-free version of the mag. And while your at it, take out the equally irrelevant fashion ads weighing it down. The mag is a great airplane read, and I'd be willing to pay $2 more for one that didn't make me ill.
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