And Then I Learned to Love Lola…

We received an email today concerning Lola, the Globe‘s new fashion mag, which hopes to achieve the kind of success the Times has had with the indisputably bad-ass T fashion magazine. I’ll withhold judgment on the thing until I see it (I do share some of its early critics’ concern about the name), but a promotional Lola email that wound up in my inbox this morning strikes me as a little overbearing, if not downright Orwellian.

“Add Lola to your Boston Globe media mix and reach more savvy, active women in the know and on the go.”

Okay, a little gross, but it’s an email to advertisers, so a little grossness is to be expected. But then Lola hardens her fist and begins consolidating her power.

“Lola is their best friend. She is fun, informative, entertaining and inspiring. She’s impulsive and practical, and she really knows Boston.”

“Lola will have a lot to say about shopping, dining, health, beauty, day-trips, relationships and all kinds of things to do.”

“Lola has a petite size that’s convenient and small enough to fit in a purse, so your ad can travel with some of your best prospects.”

Shit, why stop at print? Why not program Lola into a microchip and implant it in women’s brains and call her HAL? Lola will think so you don’t have to. Lola will give you freedom from freedom. Lola isn’t like the others. With Lola, your ignorance is your strength. Lola will vanquish the infidel Oprah and entire cities will fall. And then you will learn to love Lola…

Beyond the fear of Lola developing consciousness, crushing us and constructing temples out of our bones, and the logical problems extant in the email (why would a savvy, in-the-know woman need to be told where to go and what to buy?), this business doesn’t give me high hopes for the magazine. Typically, when we try to do high style in this town, the result is catastrophic, culminating in some shameful dowdy wreck of a Midwestern parish fashion show. (Example!)

Attempt at balance: I don’t mean to be busting on the Globe so bad today, so I’ll end this on a positive note. Read this story from the Globe Mag about how we’re all starry-eyed rubes paying waaay too much for steak. It’s phenomenally yellow, nasty and totally enjoyable.