Once upon a time, you looked at a cover, and you could tell what a society was anxious about, proud of, horny for, ashamed of, or hopeful about.
Now? Now it feels like everyone’s asleep at the wheel, and the untouchable editors are determined to serve us uninspired, lukewarm mediocrity month after month.
When did we become so scared of meaning?
We have one of the most powerful visual tools in culture. We need to talk about overconsumption. We must talk about AI. And we can talk about environmental collapse by making decay look terrifying and beautiful at the same time.
But that requires courage. And more importantly, it requires editors who give a damn.
When examining the work of photographers like Szilveszter Makó across global campaigns and editorials, what becomes evident is intentionality. I see obsession. The story. A visible curiosity toward the subject.
Contrast this with the annual cycle of Indian January issues.
Put model here. Add butterfly there. Increase saturation. Call it “Dream State.” What does it mean? Transformation? Springtime? Or just filling negative space because nobody bothered to develop a concept? To me, it looks like a rejected Instagram filter pack.
Which brings me to a rare bright flame in this smoggy editorial skyline.
Vogue Taiwan’s recent editorial confronting overconsumption demonstrated what leadership looks like in practice. That is fashion behaving like it belongs in the real world.
The contrast becomes sharper when returning to Indian covers.
Elle featuring Jemimah Rodrigues. Is this how you honour a sportsperson who just brought home a World Cup? This is a cultural moment, especially for women in sports in India.
Is this a celebration of athletic excellence or an ad for a gold choker? Why is “Elle Graduates” slapped on the cover like a university brochure headline?
Harper’s Bazaar’s presentation of Suhana Khan under the headline “Age of Innocence” leaned into... maybe an Edith Wharton heroine trapped in her backyard lawn.
And then… GQ. Did anyone even try? Did they bother to rent a studio or style this man? Why should I pay money, real, hard-earned currency, to bring this visual laziness into my home?
If your stylist is not in love with the subject, it shows. If your photographer is not curious about the person, it shows. If your editor is not reading the news, it shows. And right now, it shows everywhere.
While the world burns and the youth rise up, the holy council of gatekeepers are still trying to sell us digital butterflies and rented polyester. It’s a level of denial that’s almost impressive, if it weren't so pathetic.
We’re hungry for something real. And, I’m tired of being served trash.