“You’re implying our current covers don’t do that,” hesaid.
“Right now, you’re using women to show sex and saysex.”
“Sex sells,” Boris said so seriously, I couldn’t help butsigh.
“There’s nothing sexy about hitting people over the head with it,” I explained. “I want you to show sex and sayclass. Saysmart. Saystyle. Sell sex, not a back-alleyscrew.”
Justin widened his eyes. “That paints apicture.”
I shrugged. Men were visual creatures, right? “There’s a female demographic—and male—that craves a men’s magazine but is put off by most of our material. I can make this happen, provided you’re willing to work with me, not againstme.”
“I think you’ll be surprised to see how many female readers we have,” Sebastiansaid.
“Iwassurprised when I got the numbers,” I said, glancing at the upcoming deck of slides on my computer. I’d decided to play the next part by ear. I wasn’t sure I should get into the exposé yet since it warranted a meeting of its own, and so I wouldn’t potentially embarrass Sebastian within an hour of meeting him. That didn’t worry me anymore. “Females make up a little under sixteen percent of your readerdemographic.”
“It’s closer to eighteen,” Sebastiansaid.
“Itwas. You’ve lost two percent this year, and we haven’t even seen the results of the exposé yet. That’s cause for concern, especially considering the industry standard is over twenty percent and women typically show higher brand loyalty than men.” From the ensuing silence, I could tell nobody but Vance and I were aware of that. “Do I need to cover male readershiptoo?”
“No,” Sebastian said, shifting in his seat. “We’re up todate.”
I didn’t like calling him out. I understood he fought this because he cared, and he deserved recognition—the magazine’s readership had skyrocketed the year Sebastian had taken over. But it’d gone stagnant the last several quarters. That wasn’t abnormal for a publication that’d grown at an exponential rate likeModern Man, but numbers had started to slide backward. I couldn’t help wondering if something specific was affecting Sebastian’s workperformance.
I flipped to the next slide, page one of a ten-page spread with a bolded headline across the top: “The Bad Boys of Publishing.” Sebastian flicked his thumbnail under the plastic lid of his coffee but kept his eyes on the screen behind me. “I know you’ve all seen this,” I said. “Regardless of what’s true or false, it has hurtus.”
Sebastian shifted his gaze to me and stopped fidgeting with his drink. “You don’t think it’s alltrue?”
For the first time since I’d walked in, his bravado faltered. I hoped the exposé, at least, wasn’t a joke to him. “It’s definitely sensationalized to get eyeballs,” I said, noting the way he nodded, “but there are some valid points at the core of it.Modern Manhas been stuck in the same narrative that popularized it years ago and has since been recycling material. Now it needs to mature. The article paints us and some of our peers, includingPoised, in a negativelight.”
“Poisedis a woman’s mag,” he said. “It’s basically the female version of us. Why aren’t you over there rightnow?”
“I’m in touch with them, but because I’ve consulted there before, they have the tools to survive this. Women’s magazines have faced challenges like this since their inception. When a men’s magazine and its leaders are accused of sexism, the implications are much different and the response requires a more strategicapproach.”
“We’re not sexists,” Justin said. “We do all thisbecausewe worshipwomen.”
I moved on to a photocopy of the magazine’s advice column,Badvice, with a small round picture of Sebastian next to his byline. “In just this edition,” I said, pointing behind me, “you recommend dating several coworkers at once, going Dutch with girls you don’t want to see again, and that short men should wear lifts because, and I quote, ‘the more height you have on her, the more she’ll respectyou.’”
Sebastian sat forward. “Thecolumn—”
“I know,” I said. “It’sBadvice—fake, terrible advice that the exposé definitely misled readers into believing was true. That’s how I know the columnist was looking for a certain reaction. But the reason I agreed to take on this assignment is because I know you guys can do better thanthis.”
Sebastian sat back again and picked up his coffee. I expected him to retort, but instead, he seemed to be listening. Maybe I was getting through to him. Or maybe the exposé already had. His demeanor had softened since I’d brought it up. Was he actually ashamed of the things they’d printed? And just how much of it wastrue?
Albert grimaced. “Badvicedoesn’t really work if it’s not, um, a little . . .polarizing.”
“Polarizing is okay,” I said. “But I’d still like to phase itout.”
Sebastian’s mask slipped back into place. “You’re missing the point of it—andModern Man—completely.”
“I promise I’m not here to turn you all politically correct,” I said. “That’s not what this pub is. Instead, we’re going to elevate it. I want to immediately disassociate you guys with the sexist label. For the long-term, I want to make you a better magazine. When it comes to women, be deliberate, not callous.” I flipped to the profile of Sebastian, one of the seven men in publishing that’d been targeted. It was accompanied by an image of him at an event in a tuxedo, grinning off to the side with a girl on each arm. I’d seen it more than once over the past week, but with only days to prepare, I’d been much more focused on the article’scontent.
I cleared my throat and read a paragraph off thescreen.
“‘Hemingway and Bukowski were maligned for their machismo, but at least they contributed significantly to American literature. Quinn and his team of equally objectionable men make no apology for their juvenile humor and misogyny. One source who prefers to remain anonymous claims Quinn told her ‘the magazine is full of shit, but would you flush a golden turd?’ Golden, because it has been said thatModern Manis one of the fastest growing publications of the decade.Wesay there’s nothing modern about sexist rhetoric that pushes an old-school agenda to value women based on how they can serve men.Modern Mantreats all women as sexobjects.’”
I glanced at Sebastian, whose jawline had sharpened. Though I didn’t wish this kind of character assassination on anyone, I was glad to see the words on the screen were getting to him. It would be easier to get him to let me help navigate him through these next couplemonths.
I skipped to the next passage I’d highlighted. “‘The creative director is no better. A love-’em-and-leave-’em lothario, he and his sidekicks treat the city like their playground, attending each party, restaurant, and club with a new ‘delicacy’ on their arms (a term that comes directly from Quinn’s write-inBadVicecolumn, in which he frequently associates women with food). Quinn’s affinity for damaging beautiful women and flashy cars has landed his name on Page Six more than a few times. It’s time for him to go. The good news? If he keeps it up, the magazine will soon be as obsolete as his cavemanways.’”
