First Person Account: Park Avenue, Not Exactly A Fairy-Tale

When I walked along Park Avenue in New York City, excitement flew from every part of my body. The only other time I felt such excitement and warmth around me was when I received my United Nations pass for interpreters over a year earlier. On Park Avenue I was in my own realm of reality walking in high heels and my black skirt ready to divide the world word by word. The sun was shining, the cars were rushing and I had a perfect smile. Yes, this was my world to be.

STAR magazine was not what I expected when I replied to a Craigslist ad (or was it Craigslist?) but it was Park Avenue that told me “stay." I received the news of being accepted to the internship on the worst day of my life. It was a very personal day and neither STAR magazine, nor American Media reminded me of Park Avenue.

“We want you to come in.”

“Okay.”

Pause. Ten minutes pass. Finally my problems entered the background and I remembered Park Avenue.

I’d walk Park Avenue many times during my internship hours. I even had the privilege to go to 5th Avenue stores (Gucci, Versace and more) and have a real Prada and Versace bag next to me during my walks. I conversed with people from the jitney heading to Hampton and I once drank one of the best coffees (MudStop) offered in Midtown New York. My boss gave me the ticket to life along the celebrities. Or did she?

Versace and Prada bags were taken to a special place along 7th Avenue to get cleaned. MudStop offered a cup free with purchase that day (Bonnie needed the coffee beans). Gucci and Versace sent their new collections for Bonnie to pick something new for herself, which had to be picked up in person. The Hampton Jitney was on schedule every Friday for promotional use. I gave out free STAR magazines to the passengers who had nothing better to do then read all about gossip, gossip and once again gossip.

She was not a Devil wearing Prada (although her assistant’s name is Emily and Prada fits well into her small office closet). Luckily, her coffee choice was usually purchased from downstairs in our building, she ordered delivery for lunch (when she stayed in the office for lunch), and the huge pack of magazines, containing both British and American magazines, (amazingly how today Vogue, O Magazines and Everyday with Rachel Ray together have the size of a single magazine I had to bring to the office back then) was needed only twice a week. The only problem was that there was no smell of journalism when I interned with American Media, Inc. I work for a Law Firm right now as an Administrative Assistant, and I do more journalism/writing here then I ever did at my Editorial Internship on Park Avenue.

By: Valeriya Ivanova, Contributing Writer, NYC
photo from here

Are Your Looks (And Not Your Resume) Getting You In The Door?

I have a few really hot friends who wanted to get internships in magazine publishing—they didn't even want to be editors, they just wanted a magazine internship "for fun." They sent out cover letters and resumes, and within a week, all of them had scored internships with some of the best pubs in the business.

However, some of my less-stunning friends (including myself) have resumes that are a little more sparse when it comes to having served as interns at brand-name publications. And yet my hot friends with no experiencegot these awesome internships. Coincidence? I think not. Ugh...The media industry appears to be increasingly image-obsessed. The Devil Wears Prada depicted the offices of magazines as a toxic peer culture of snobbish beautiful women... and Lauren Conrad at Teen Vogue really doesn't help that stereotype.

I was walking by the New York Times building a few weeks ago and saw a young woman smoking a cigarette outside who was in a tight button down shirt and a short, poofy skirt that was so outrageous that it had to have been couture. Is this what the Times has come to--young staffers who probably have to spend as much time primping as they do reviewing the Elements of Style?

When I think of the glory days of newspaper and magazine publishing (before financial stress at the New York Times and Time Inc., and the new media), I think of newspaper editors reclining in their chairs with their feet on their desks while chain-smoking cigarettes, and sleep-deprived editors at magazines with tired eyes and a little too much stubble. Now that magazine editors have become near celebrities and newspaper editors bringing celebrity guests to the Washington Correspondents dinners, has the media lost the ruggedness that used to be so endearing?

Does it mean that today's college grads need to be hot if they want to get that prized editorial assistant job or internship? In the past, paying your dues used to mean grunt work. Is the prerequestite to today's grunt work a diet and a makeover? I'm hopeful. I'm cute and blonde, but I'm also very overweight, and I hope to get a job in the media. It just probably won't be for AnnaWintour.

Liz Funk, Contributing Writer, NYC

photo from here.