Yesterday I was sitting in a meeting with our founder Wick Allison where the topic of National Geographic came up. Specifically he was discussing the fact that there are untold copies of National Geogrpahic magazine sitting in basements across America. That magazine boasts some serious loyality.
My ears perked up at this fantastic news. See friends, my name is Joslyn, and I am a National Geographic addict.
That felt good.
I wish I could say I was addicted to the content, as that would be so much cooler. And yes, the content is undisputably good… It’s inspiring, timeless. (I actually do flip through my beloved collection occasionally, and nothing makes me happier than when I walk in on one of my young daughters devouring one.) But alas, my fondness is far more shallow. For me, it’s all about that awesome yellow cover.
I regularly troll garage sales and Half Price Books for copies. I shamelessly beg them off friends, neighbors, strangers on the street. (The fruits of my labors can be seen in that photo above.) But this news of basements filled with them has me seriously considering a life of crime.
Behold the loveliness of this display in a home in South Africia (via Elle Decor).
And how about all those lovely yellow spines lined up neatly in a row in a room at the über hip Maritime Hotel in NYC’s meatpacking district.
I need to get into those basements! Stat.
