Sexy and Funny Nuts Magizine Girls
A s the audio of jazz filled the air in the office that night I diligently got on with the task at hand. It was slow. It was laborious. It was tedious. It was decapitating topless women. I was acquaintance editor on the best-selling men'southward weekly mag Basics and tomorrow was the launch of Appraise My Breasts – an online brand extension inviting women to upload pictures of themselves (or rather, their breasts) to be rated out of x. But get-go, earlier nosotros went live, I had to populate it; ensuring it launched with a 100-boob blindside rather than a no-boob whimper. Faces were a no-no – part of the "appeal" was anonymity and then the girls would experience comfy with beingness publicly graded. Then, there I was at 9pm, attempting a mass head-chopping on pictures we kept on file and had sought permission to upload.
Decapitationgate was the peak of the "existent girl" phenomenon in men's magazines – ordinary girls, in ordinary situations, pictured in their underwear. A phenomenon we at Nuts had happened upon several months before and one that had made the magazine a huge success. And along with information technology, a success of the people who worked on it.
I left lads' mags iv-and-a-half years ago and, in that time, sales of these magazines (in line with the remainder of the industry) have declined significantly, while I've reaped the rewards for beingness function of their rise. I'one thousand aware that evenings like my 1 every bit a trainee serial killer greatly helped my career, and that my nice life has been effectively built on other women's boobs. At the time I fiercely dedicated the magazine, insisting we didn't exploit women. This confidence has wobbled over the years. Being from a working-class background, I was painfully aware that many, if not nigh, of these women were from a similar place. Now, with the passage of time, do these women experience that we exploited them? Do they regret their naked v minutes? Had I betrayed the sisterhood for my own proceeds?
I grew upwardly poor – actually poor – and was desperate to change this. Academy seemed the only way and a month afterward my concluding exam (English literature, with a dissertation on black feminist theory) I was in London, working as editorial banana and PA on a mature men'southward championship, Afterwards. I'd been obsessed with magazines since I picked upwards my outset re-create of Just Seventeen. My ambition: learn every bit much as I could, as speedily as I could, and become an editor past 30.
When I was offered a job on a new mag launch in 2003, I didn't hesitate. I didn't even care what it was. I'd heard rumours that the company was pumping millions of pounds into it, that the names attached to the launch were some of the biggest in the industry and figured that if it was a success information technology would be my large break. That magazine was Basics, and it worked like a dream: I was promoted several times until I was its number 3.
Our launch cover star was Nell McAndrew, perkily sporting a vest. Wholesome Beyoncé in a ra-ra skirt soon followed. I loved working for a men's mag and spouted the mag's no-nipple policy while getting a kicking out of the features we ran on the French SAS and the hunt for Osama bin Laden.
The "existent girl" phenomenon, when it happened, surprised usa all. Inquiry showed that the young men of Britain didn't want sleeky, unattainable, shiny-haired women from LA. They wanted Tracey from the neighbouring village. Moreover, they wanted to see breasts. And more specifically, nipples. The surprise, in hindsight, was that this was ever a surprise.
The concept of "normal" women trying glamour modelling wasn't in itself revolutionary – the now defunct car mag Max Power and men's monthly FHM had both run model competitions. The difference? We weren't trying to discover a hidden precious stone who would transform swan-like into a professional. We made a virtue of the fact that they were everyday women. We rejected "professional" shots and encouraged them to submit pictures in day-to-day situations – their bedroom, garden, taking a shower, straddling the kitchen table, crawling on the bonnet of their fellow's car. One imaginative girl took a picture of herself in a bush. We gently suggested that they might want to look a chip more "natural" and get easy on the hair extensions, razor-abrupt talons and thick fake tan.
Basics was in the right identify at the right fourth dimension. It outburst on to the scene at a particularly unique time in British culture – when reality TV had only exploded and the promise of overnight fame was screamed from the front pages of every tabloid newspaper. "It was a bit of a perfect tempest really," says ex-deputy editor of Nuts Hans Seeberg. "At the time nosotros just took a scrap of a flyer. The editor said: "Let's try real girls" and the event did really well." Before long the postbags were jutting. "Girls had seen the likes of Katie Toll and Lucy Pinder – who they imagined earned a expert living – standing in front of a camera in their bra and pants with their pilus and make-up washed," says Seeberg, pondering the entreatment. "They probably idea, 'That'south quite an easy life and I bet I'd make more than money than I exercise working at Boots.'"
The "perfect storm" was more than than just a mix of Large Blood brother and instant celebrity. As feminist Natasha Walter notes in her book Living Dolls, the third element was the resurgence of glamour modelling – previously seen as an 80s, perm-based phenomenon. "We've always had Page iii in the newspapers, but I recollect the fact that you could model for a magazine made it upmarket," says Walter. "That fabricated it bonny to young women – that it was mainstream and a picayune bit glossier than Page 3."
Walter'southward theory is borne out past statistics – a 2005 poll revealed that 63% of young women would rather be glamour models than nurses, doctors or teachers. And a survey carried out the following yr showed that a 3rd of teenage girls saw Jordan as a part model.
But this new model of "success" for young women came under fire for being reductive and dangerous. "Who are the women who appear to practise well and exist successful within this culture?" asks Anna van Heeswijk from Object – the arrangement that campaigns against the objectification of women. "For the most function it's often women who are completely sexualised in this way. That certainly does have an touch on self-esteem and the aspirations of young women and girls."
Initially I wasn't overly concerned near this shift in the magazine'south editorial focus. The champagne corks popped as we posted each apportionment rise. To me, it seemed harmless – the copy was cut through with cheeky seaside humour, making information technology experience like "good clean fun", and at that place were editorial rules laid downward so we didn't disrespect the women nosotros featured. We must never use the give-and-take "tits". Swearing was banned. We must never make jokes at their expense. We should write virtually them with amuse and wit. These women were to be put on a pedestal – the suggestion was that if the readers were lucky and not completely hapless, they might one twenty-four hours get to be with a woman like that. Might.
Just as the fight for sales became fiercer, we needed to exist bigger and bolder. The pictures became more than outrageous ("Beginning time topless!"), the book college ("100 Real Girls' Breasts!"), the spin more than novel ("Real girls in the bath!"). I once ran a brainstorm simply titled "New ways to do breasts". A meeting in which I, and several educated, brilliant men, sat around, scratching our heads trying to "spin" boobs. I walked out of the room with "BUMS??" written in my notebook, believing we'd had an beefcake epiphany, only to be told that bums didn't sell.
I was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. We went right into the beau'due south stomping ground – confined and nightclubs – to take pictures of girls flashing. One windy Monday nighttime in Kingston, I approached a girl to inquire if she'd similar to be photographed for Nuts. She nodded, put her hands upwards her skirt and started to pull downwardly her knickers. I stopped her, horrified, and tried to tactfully explicate that she didn't need to bare her vagina to become into the magazine.
By the time Assess My Breasts was built-in, ii years into my time at Basics, I had serious concerns. "In hindsight, that could take perhaps been done a little meliorate," concedes Hans Seeberg. "But it was not the sort of affair that gave me sleepless nights. Knowing the people who worked on Nuts, it wasn't done with whatever pessimism."
What it did abandon was the idea that the girls' personality was essential. That the readers weren't just interested in her cup size – they wanted to know who she was, where she lived, what her hobbies were, how she took her tea. It's fair to say that a pair of disembodied mammary glands is about as far away from this philosophy equally you can get. I knew we were crossing a line, that perhaps we had done so long before, but I buried information technology and continued to be a happy, difficult-working member of the Basics team. My armour wasn't even punctured when a fellow female journalist approached me in the pub to ask me how I slept at night: I was outraged that she'd asked me such a question.
My personal ambitions were being fulfilled and I felt lucky to have a journalism career, when life could have been and so dissimilar. And in truth, going in to work was a joy. Contrary to what people might remember, Basics was mainly staffed by left-leaning middle-class family men (and women) who were smart, funny and talented. The office would ordinarily be institute picking apart final night's Newsnight, rowing about politics or discussing house prices. The ane fourth dimension we did take topless women in the office – they trooped in with a PR to plug some random production – the editor was horrified and the staff awkward and ruddy-faced with embarrassment, looking intently at their screens. They were the funniest, brightest group of people I'd ever had the pleasure of working with.
Hans Seeberg became a father soon after leaving Nuts and I ask him whether this, coupled with a fleck of altitude, has resulted in a change of heart or any sleepless nights since. "I don't feel guilty," he says. "I look back on working there with fondness. Lots of people who worked on Nuts at the time had families and no one seemed to take a trouble. Plus, there were girls similar you working there, which probably made us feel a bit meliorate, too." He does tell me, though, that he may feel differently had he had a daughter and not a son. I think back to my reaction when my younger sister, Roxanne, wanted to be in Basics. My firsthand response was a high-pitched yell of "Over my dead body!"
The first person to trouble my censor was Natasha Walter. She interviewed me for Living Dolls when I was deputy editor of Maxim magazine a couple of years later. In her book, Walter recounts the conversation: "When I asked White whether she thought the women who strip for these magazines are beingness exploited, she bridled. She insisted that the glamour-modelling world respects and celebrates women, and again returned to the theme of free selection. 'Nosotros are never misogynistic near the women who model for us. They sell the magazine for us.' And she added: 'I find it really offensive when people say that. It's their choice. A lot of them have huge ambitions, or just want to be in a magazine. Who are we to judge them?'"
My skin shrinks a little tighter against my bones as I re-read it. I retrieve feeling very defensive when being interviewed by Natasha and not entirely believing each word that shot out of my mouth. I speak to Natasha again now and ask her what she idea of my statement. "At the time I thought y'all were wrong and I nevertheless think that women who say that are incorrect," she says. "Because when we participate in this type of exploitative media, we're non just reflecting it, we're besides reinforcing, and helping it to grow. So if nosotros don't like that kind of media why are we participating in it and encouraging it?"
Xx-8-year-onetime Lucy Marles was in Nuts when she was in her early 20s and waitressing in Pizza Hut. I travel to Torquay, keen to observe if she now looks back on her semi-naked magazine appearance with fondness, or with deep regret. A bright and articulate woman, she has three Equally levels and a secretarial diploma, and now works in an auction firm. When I ask her what motivated her to pose, she breaks into an easy smiling. "I was just focused on having a good fourth dimension," she says. "I thought it would exist prissy if it led somewhere, but if it didn't I wouldn't be heartbroken."
Lucy says several times that she was only "having fun", then mentions a human relationship that broke down at the aforementioned fourth dimension. I ask if it was a factor. "I possibly did it because of that," she says. "Deep downwardly maybe I was thinking, 'This has happened, I'chiliad gutted, wait at what you've messed upwardly.'" Merely she says she enjoyed the attention and insists she has no regrets. "It involved existence in forepart of a camera and showing off my youth. That was information technology, really."
Vikki Hansekowitsch, from Harrogate, sent pictures of herself to FHM and Zoo. It was her and so fellow's thought. "Merely a express mirth,," she says. She refutes any suggestion of exploitation. "It'south a positive thing – it boosts a daughter's confidence. It's up to you what you practice with your body, and if you're having fun, simply do it."
The next natural pace in men's media was online and mobile, both of which became more important equally print sales declined. Unlike the print features (which are mainly unpaid), women on the mobile sites become a cutting of the profits when their picture is downloaded. And and so I head for Caffè Nero in Hull to meet Shaz. Shaz gets 5p in every pound, but doesn't think this is a fair amount. "It'south our bodies that we're showing," she says. Currently unemployed, Shaz makes effectually £ten per month, which doesn't even cover the price of her pay-as-yous-go dongle.
She submitted her first moving picture to a mobile site at the age of 36 at a friend'due south encouragement, later her ex-married man had left her for a younger woman, leaving her depressed. Initially, Shaz didn't show her face – "I was worried my family unit would think I was slapper," she says. "But it's my life and I'1000 doing it for myself." Shaz received around 200 positive comments from men on the site, and is at present on several "real daughter" sites. "When I was younger, I was obese – 13st past the age of 12. I lost all that weight, but it ever stuck in my caput that I was fat and ugly. Doing this has boosted my confidence." She tells me she'd even so love to be in one of the magazines. Just once. All 3 women angrily react to my suggestion that many women don't concord with what they did. "Who am I to say information technology'south wrong? Who's anyone to say information technology'due south wrong? It's our choice at the finish of the day," states Lucy firmly.
I put this "personal choice" argument to Anna van Heeswijk. "The outcome of choice is complex and doesn't be in a vacuum," she says. "And the problems we're discussing are far broader than those of individual pick. Because when women are persistently objectified and sexualised, and pornographic images become more than mainstream and more normalised, that has an effect on how women and girls experience about themselves and on our choices."
While lads' mags alone didn't create this sexualised culture, they responded to it and reinforced it, helping information technology grow into a mass-market monster wearing a sleeky mask of normality. We told a generation of young men that a adult female'due south value lay in the pertness of her breasts and willingness to flash in a public identify earlier going dwelling house to have sexual practice. The dirty kind. Nosotros told a generation of immature women that it wasn't necessary to become an education or build a career to amend your life. Just be willing to bare your breasts and look what you could win! A pot of gilded! And a footballer! And I was a office of that for entirely selfish reasons. I tossed whatever concerns out of the window in favour of the feel of the monthly payslip and the warm glow of success.
But I notwithstanding feel awkward at the idea of telling women that they should not and could not participate in this culture. The ascendant voices in this debate are still those from the middle class, who tin can only imagine what it's like to walk in these women'south 5in heels. I call up what information technology's like to feel that opportunities only don't be for your kind and that when they come up along you need to cling on for love life. And possibly, only perhaps, some of the women who claim to do it and enjoy information technology really do mean it.
Would I practice it all again knowing what I know at present? No. We did too much damage. While the magazines themselves may be in turn down, the culture they helped to create tin can still be seen in towns and cities all effectually the UK – from the Sabbatum-night porny perspex heels to the casual DIY sex activity tapes and still-held hopes for fast fame. And, in retrospect, I could take congenital a career and achieved the financial security I hankered for without my Basics years and without using other women'south breasts as my stepping stone to go there.
Sali Hughes on Loaded
Guardian beauty columnist Sali Hughes worked as a style writer on Loaded in the late 1990s
Loaded was my starting time journalism job, and people assumed I spent my days being sexually harassed and swerving gropes. That wasn't the case. The men I worked with were knowledgeable, talented and, in their brutally honest way, encouraged my writing career. All were hilariously funny, broadly feminist and politically conscious. Women were equals who they happened to fancy similar mad.
Still, they were atrociously behaved. No one turned upwards for my job interview considering they'd got pissed the nighttime before and forgotten. While waiting, I reorganised the fashion cupboard and got the job. They took me to the pub to gloat. Nosotros had arcade games, a weed smokers' roof terrace, a duvet in a closet to sleep off hangovers. It was bright fun.
In 1999, I left to become freelance. I was ready to go. The political party was over and it was evident on the folio. Only I'g sure being i of the only women on Loaded helped my career. I was more organised than the men, more efficient. I'yard not sure my career would have progressed and then rapidly from a women'south glossy.
I'm still friends with several Loaded writers. The magazine is unrecognisable at present. It's soft-porn drivel, but in its twenty-four hour period it was fresh and exciting. We put Kathy Shush on the embrace and ran features on communism and crisps. Loaded's influence on popular civilisation was extraordinary. I'm proud, as a woman, to have played a office and held my ain.
Indira Das-Gupta on Zoo
PR manager Indira Das-Gupta was news editor at Zoo. She worked there from its launch in 2003
When I saw an ad for news editor at Emap'south new men'due south magazine, it was all very acme cloak-and-dagger. Nobody knew the proper noun or the content. The ad I replied to described it equally a "newsy weekly for men". But as I was to discover, there was actually very picayune news, unless you count stories most elephant wanking.
All the headlines in Zoo were in superlatives, everything was the "biggest, longest, fastest, heaviest… in the world!" When it was first published, some supermarkets threatened to put it on the peak shelf equally the content was deemed unsuitable for children. The images that didn't make it into the magazine were even more shocking although with fourth dimension I became desensitised to information technology all.
Working at Zoo was surreal, agreeable and occasionally bordered on stomach churning. I was oft the but woman in editorial meetings. My colleagues certainly didn't atmosphere their comments for my benefit. Information technology sometimes felt like they were deliberately trying to run across if they could provoke a reaction. On 1 occasion someone told a joke comparing biting into a rotten apple to beingness raped – oh how my sides ached.
Memorable moments include having to watch Abi Titmuss'due south domicile-fabricated sex DVD with a female lawyer to check the legality of our study. And then there was the time we bundled for a bar to be set up in the home of a couple banned from every pub in Uk. We likewise managed to get a painting past Charles Bronson to requite away – not the player but the convicted criminal.
In the cease I was forced out of my job because direction felt they needed a homo to be news editor. Did he do a ameliorate job? That's non for me to say. Just despite everything, whenever I call back of my fourth dimension at Zoo I can't help just grin.
Lili Harges on Loonshit
Motion-picture show editor Lili Harges worked at men's magazine Arena until 2006
If ane thing summed up how strange information technology was to be a woman working on a testosterone-packed men's magazine, it was the Rachel Stevens question. By the early on 2000s she barely had a career whatsoever more than and withal every other month she seemed to be on the comprehend. The women on staff just didn't get it. But to the men, it was a no-brainer. She sold magazines, and we went where the market went.
I spent iv years at Arena, coming up with ideas for images, setting upward shoots with celebrities and researching photos. Gone were the days when Arena had majored on high-sounding, vaguely homoerotic mode images. Offset Loaded then FHM knocked that trend out of British men'southward magazines. If we photographed a chef, he had to be surrounded by underdressed models.
Though men held near of the senior positions on the magazine, the Arena office was never a frat house. The staff could be great fun and I enjoyed working at that place. But regardless of talent, piece of work-ethic or even humour, as a woman you felt you'd never quite get in into the inner circle. At the same time there was a gulf between the urban sophisticate in Arena's pages and the men in the part, who were often ordinary men with wives and kids. Even our editor had minimal involvement in sports, fashion, books, politics, DIY or fifty-fifty going to the pub. In its own manner the magazine'due south view of men was simply as restrictive as its view of women.
Source: https://www.theguardian.com/media/2012/apr/22/nuts-magazine-lads-mags-women
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