
Issue 12 came out last week and, like every 6 months or so, I scrabbled around every newsagent and paper stand in central London trying to get my hands on a copy. With no luck, I resorted to buying it online. Nothing like coming home in the evening to a pristinely-bound book of loveliness on your welcome mat and a large glass of wine to keep you company whilst reading it.
So, what is it about this magazine that whips and whisks a growing collection of us bloggers into a sugar-sweet frenzy? It's something I've been thinking about recently as every issue, every article, every editorial gets a huge amount of blog coverage. We are the Lula groupies.
Could it be the rarity, the exclusivity of it all? It's not your everyday, common garden Grazia or Vogue. It's not going to pop up in W H Smiths in your, or any other, town in the UK. Maybe, just like the way we love thrifting and searching for bargains, we anticipate the hunt for Lula. Will we be the first to post photos from the new issue? Seemingly, it's always Londoners that find it first. Good luck for the rest of you, you poor Lula-less souls.
Remember those magazines designed to help people start a collection? Buy the first issue for 99p and you'll get the interior walls of a dolls house, with the next a rocking chair and some dinner plates and so on and so on. Lula is my very own easy collection and I know I'm not the only one to keep them all like some treasured heirloom. I'm only missing issue 1 and unless the angels of eBay bless me with that mythic tome for less than £200, I'll never own it. That grates somewhat on my Virgoan perfectionist tendencies.
But really, I don't think it's any of that. I think it's the articles, the content, the writers and contributors that really get us looking forward to Lula. There aren't any articles on how to get the career you've always wanted, or how to please your man/boss/best friend. There's not a peep about the latest celebrity trends or what beauty products are a must-have this month. With the magazine only being compiled twice a year, the content isn't throwaway, it is considered, fad-free and timeless.
Lula also happens to be completely fabulous at throwing you straight back into your childhood. This month there's an article by Lizzie Brandt on the Disney artist and legend Mary Blair, complete with photos of the It's a Small World After All ride and the effect her work had on the world and it's children. That's me and you, ladies and improbable-gents. The editorials are soft-focus, the muses are varied and the clothing, whilst still pricey, is hyper-girly, classic and wearable. There is always an illustration or two, a fable-inspired shoot, a what-I-want-to-be-when-I-grow-up interview with an artist, a band, an actress.
There are no conclusions here, but I love Lula because it takes me away, it teaches me, it caters to my inner-child yet doesn't patronise, and, secretly, because I think it has the best font of any magazine I've ever seen.