emotional rescue

The voice of the September issue of Elle is a little unstable. It's a convention of women's magazines for writers and interview subjects to breezily expose their vulnerability in order to connect with their readers, but as some of articles in the September issue demonstrate, it's hard to be nonchalant when you're still grappling with the issue you're addressing. Here are some awkward admissions from articles about insomnia, depression, shopping, infidelity, and modeling.

From the end of Dr. Good Sleep, on curing insomnia by Rachael Combe: "Why is it that we can never accept that our problems are run-of-the-mill? Why do we resist commonsense advice and instead turn to drugs and complicated programs? Actually, forget 'we': Why do I do this? Am I a narcissist? A drama queen? A moron?"

From Eat, Pray, Love, on supermodel-turned-yogi, Cameron Alborzian (the dude from Madonna's "Express Yourself" video) who stayed in depressive journalist Holly Millea's home to teach her a healthier lifestyle: "As we tuck into our respective beds, I'm wide awake with the unusualness of having a man spend the night. A stranger no less. I mean, just because Cameron's beautiful and Keralasmatic doesn't mean he not be... dangerous! Ooh, wouldn't it be great if he were?... Then again, he could be Lifetime movie-dangerous, in which case my lifetime would be in danger. But I'd get to have sex before I died. I should put on some music."

From Alexandra Marshall's Cinderella Man, on men who enjoy buying expensive clothing for their girlfriends: "The following day, still suspicious of my own motives (and his, a bit), but also well aware that I Wanted Stuff, Dammit, I rationalized thusly: In addition to starting conservatively, I'm going to start small, and make the whole experience as much about him as it is about me. Lingerie felt like the right option, possibly because I was still feeling slightly prostitutional and wanted to know if I could live with it."

Danger Man by Phillip Nobel is an essay on the writer, who left his wife of ten years for his 22-year-old research assistant, and things only go downhill from there. "The son of a shrink and a psychiatric social worker, I'd never considered therapy. I got hooked on astrology instead. It was hard to even admit to my parents I was depressed, after I'd at least admitted it to myself." "Cue divorce, Judge Jeffrey S. Sunshine presiding, a grinding $50,000 New York State special hinging on the nation of 'emotional adultery.' Cue lavish, self-destructive Lower East Side nights, occasional bliss, and everyday despair. I started writing a very angry blog."

Meghan Deem's Walk the Line, on entering Miami's fashion week: "I grew up desperately wishing I could be a model because it would have confirmed something I didn't believe: that I was pretty. My life took another path, but--I'm ashamed to admit--I'm pushing 34 and still craved that external validation. Luckily for me and my therapist, I have a chance to participate in what will be my version of Fantasy Baseball Camp: The Miami Style Showcase, part of the city's annual fashion week, in which I get to walk with real models. Fierce!"

I love it when people mention their astrological dependency, it makes them seem so real. Let's be honest, it sounds like a cry for help!

It's counterproductive to make crazy, self-deprecating comments about prostitution, narcissism and doubt, among other things, in pieces that are supposed to be about growth. As feminist critic Laura Kipnis has noted in Slate, in keeping with our twelve-step culture, the format that these articles usually take is loosely one of problem, recovery, and testimonial. The personal anecdote is meant to provide a glimpse of self-reflection. It sets up the "aha!" moment of the story. Taken together, these five articles seems to suggest that volunteering more uncomfortable information, regardless of placement in the piece, has replaced actual understanding. The former is lazy thinking and not funny. The difficulty in writing personal essays (as opposed to say, blogging) is that it requires the author to have command over his or her material, which includes what he or she knows and has learned in the process of the assignment. Disclosing more embarrassing information emphasizes the rift between self-knowledge and whatever it is he or she has yet to figure out--which is usually obvious--and weakens the arc of the story. Holly Millea probably hasn't gained much insight from having a model-turned-yogi stay at her house. This is especially sad, since she begins the piece describing what an intense recluse she is and her inability to write grocery lists.

It's a scary, time-honored hallmark of fashion magazines to prey upon their readers and writers' insecurities as products of ephemeral value. If the September Elle is any indicator, this fall, we'll all be in our artisanal Prada lace, mercilessly self-conscious yet unaware, prone to complicated programs, destructive nights out, and maybe starting angry blogs. The lesson here seems to be that we might as well invest our intelligence in someone else's patient handiwork, when figuring ourselves out is harder to do.

Dr. Good Sleep [Elle]
other articles available off-line only.