If you're reading this and you haven't heard of and fallen in love with Lula Magazine, I'm genuinely surprised. I've awarded Lula with many, many commendations in the past, but I can't help but (continue to) wonder what it is that makes me crave an evening with the pages of this glossy so badly. It's so dreamy, so fantastical, so whimsically feminine, that I just fall in love over and over with each issue. Maybe it's the scarcity of her appearance, or the fact that Lula sells out so quickly when it does finally make the transatlantic journey. Or, maybe, it's the fact that in an age of instant gratification and news feeds and twitter and ticker tape, I have an immense sense of nostalgia for the feeling of actually looking forward to the tactile experience of reading a magazine, especially after months of anticipation. I love the fashion editorials, with hazy, daydreamy, and sunburst colors and tones, and their knack for fanciful clothes styled in an (almost) approachable way. I love that my wanderlust can live vicariously through their jet-setting spreads. For a girl who is as obsessed and wrapped up in aesthetics as I am, it's basically the perfect magazine: from the fashion to the typography to the page layouts. As number twelve has just been released, I find myself yet again getting cozy on my couch with a cup of tea and my fresh copy (okay, this issue has been on my coffee table for over two weeks, but I'm only just finding the time!).
Do you read Lula? Are you as gushy over its pages as I am? Am I just fulfilling every cliché imaginable right now? (Don't answer that last one; I know the answer is yes.)
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