In Defense of 11 Freunde
I hate football. Really hate it. Not the kind of person who makes an exception for the World Cup or anything like that—for me football is basically the religion of the stupid, the hobby of the clueless, the love of the masses. But sometimes I’m jealous of people who worship football, because they get to read magazines like 11 Freunde, and holy shit, what a magazine. The October 2014 issue has this article about the loyal fans of smaller clubs, the ones who show up in any weather to cheer on their team no matter what happens, no matter if they win or lose. It’s like a love letter to that whole way of living. The rest of the issue kind of lost me—interviews with managers and trainers nobody’s heard of, talking about how you turn a club successful, which decisions matter, where the money comes from. I could feel my brain just shutting down. But that first part. I understand why people love this magazine.
InStyle is basically all advertisements. It’s in the Guinness Book of Records as the magazine with the most ads ever published, which I absolutely believe. You pay four euros for the pleasure of looking at pictures of clothes and cosmetics and handbags. There’s one Giorgio Armani ad that came with a black VIP card you could cut out, and I did, and suddenly I felt like I mattered for a few seconds. Cate Blanchett looked at me from another page and I felt something I probably shouldn’t admit. Then there was this ad for a Philips electric toothbrush where the model is literally pressing the thing between her legs like whoever designed this knew exactly what women and girls actually want to do with a pink electric toothbrush. They could just call it a vibrator and be done with it.
The third thing I grabbed was DIE ZEIT Wissen, which is basically a guide to getting through puberty. It’s aimed at kids whose bodies are suddenly doing weird things, growing hair in places they didn’t know they had, and some asshole named Torsten is trying to touch them after spending the last few years calling them fat. Congratulations, you’re a teenager. The magazine’s supposed to help. There’s a whole section where young people talk about surviving what’s simultaneously the best and worst time of their lives. Nomi stands in front of the bathroom mirror. Jannik goes to the gym. Levin goes to parties. Susanna joined the circus school. Real stuff, real people. It’s so much better than BRAVO, which is just teenagers blushing and dads freaking out about their daughters discovering sex. Maybe this one actually works.