Branded Male

The cult of Tyler Brûlé

While we're on the subject of magazines (see below), I thought I'd take a chance to mention Monocle, which is currently celebrating its first anniversary. The founder of the magazine is the unsinkable Tyler Brûlé, who is occasionally accused of sounding like a menu item but is actually a media genius.

I've been a bit of a fan of the man ever since he launched Wallpaper* (the asterisk is part of the masthead) way back in  1994. At the time it was revolutionary: a jaunty magazine about global design that appealed to young aspirational types who couldn't afford half the items it featured. He sold it to Time-Warner a couple of years later and parted company with it in  2002. The magazine has never been the same since, because it worked best as a reflection of his own quirky tastes.

As far as I can work out, Brûlé loves airports, Tokyo, Switzerland and Scandinavia. He is into retro minimalism, multiculturalism, clean lines, craftsmanship, efficiency and v-neck pullovers. He likes things that, as the Honda "Cog" ad once put it, "just work." It isn't surprising that Munich topped Monocle's list of the world's most liveable cities.

I was a little unsure about Monocle at first, due to its grainy paper and chilly photography, but the "global briefing" quickly got into its stride. All the Brûlé obsessions are intact - a bullet train hummed on the cover of the last issue - together with reportage, quirky business ideas, unusual fashion and the next big brands you've never heard of. There's an original idea on every page. What other news magazine would have the balls to end with a Manga cartoon featuring a half-Japanese, half-Danish secret agent? Sounds like pure Brûlé.

GQ à la Française

The French version of GQ was launched today, so I picked up a copy with my International Herald Tribune, at the slightly plaintive introductory price of one euro. Presumably Condé Nast is counting on the GQ brand to make the publication work, because upmarket men's magazines have historically dragged their feet in France: existing titles like Optimum, Monsieur and Dandy are barely on the radar. The problem is that French men tend to prefer news magazines - L'Express, Le Point and Le Nouvel Observateur - while occasionally dipping into their partner's Elle. Glossy men's titles fall into a black hole somewhere between the two.

This may be the reason that Condé Nast hired a journalist from Libération, a lefty newspaper with a shrinking circulation, to edit GQ. The wisdom of doing so, along with the added complication that the person concerned is a woman, has yet to be proven.

Certainly the first issue, while displaying the rich, ad-heavy coachwork of a typical Condé Nast vehicle, is something of a disappointment.

The familiar features of actor Vincent Cassel loom out of the cover, as they have out of so many others. Anne Boulay's debut leader is oddly dispassionate, consisting mainly of an apology for the magazine's funny foreign name. The opening section is light on photography, providing instead a hit-and-miss series of short essays about familiar subjects: salaries, dating, shopping...and even the pleasures of irony, which the rest of the magazine (ironically) lacks.

Fortunately, a number of high points follow. Of the three fashion spreads, two are rather good: inspired by the resurgent preppy look on the one hand and post-punk on the other, they feel sharp and relevant. There's also an interesting report on the Taliban by Christoph Reuter, although the photos - by Karim Ben Khalifa - really make the piece. And I enjoyed an article probing the disturbing fact that French journalists are forever marrying politicians.

A vaguely erotic photo-spread shot by legendary snapper Jeanloup Sieff draws attention to the main problem facing French GQ: in a world where the press is being challenged by the internet, this brand new magazine does not move the debate forward one iota. A blend of every other blokes' mag you've ever read, it boasts neither the tongue-in-cheek polish of British GQ nor the Rat Pack hipness of the American edition. In fact it's so determined to appear upmarket that it ends up seeming frostily distant.

Maybe French GQ is like a new suit from a renowned designer. It looks the part, but until it has worn in a bit, it lacks soul.

Branded Male: the book

Well, folks, the book that inspired this blog will shortly be hitting the shops. Branded Male: Marketing to Men is published by Kogan Page and is yours for a song, should you decide to help support the Tungate household. Otherwise, your local library may decide to stock a copy.

One of the most gratifying things about writing a book is that it generates a slew of articles. These can be in review form (scary, because reviewers feel almost honour-bound to slate you) or in the more controllable form of articles written by the author, based on the book. Into that category fits the piece that appeared this week in Marketing magazine (UK). Enjoy it here.

And if after reading it you decide that you absolutely can't live without the book, click here to order a copy.

Naked women good: naked men bad

      
I'm on the pre-selection jury of an advertising competition called Epica, which aims to unearth the best creative work in Europe, the Middle East and Africa. The unusual thing about Epica, when compared with other creative awards around the world, is that it is entirely judged by journalists. The upside of this is that agencies cannot vote for themselves - or their peers. The downside is that...well, we're journalists, so our tastes occasionally veer towards the tabloid.

I thought about this again today when I started work on the editorial content for The Epica Book, a selection of this year's award-winning work. The images here, for a Danish underwear brand, struck me as particularly relevant to my Branded Male project. The baseline reads: "Because men don't want to look at naked men." Well...quite. So let's leap to the obvious conclusion.

The photographers were Rasmus Mogensen + Morten Laursen, for the agency & Co.