WARNING, THIS POST CONTAINS CHEESE, CLICHES AND ALLITERATION.
We did – or nearly did make a Pulse. Tomorrow is press day but the back is most definitely broken. Just so we’re all on the same web page (fnah, fnah), Pulse is the middle section of the New York Post and I work on the Sunday edition. It covers music, movies, food, pets (I shall be launching a campaign to get pets into Fabulous when I get home), dating, celebs, fashion, theatre and anything kinda cool that’s relevant to New Yorkers. It’s brilliant: funny, irreverent but not mean, spinny and full of great writing and reporting.
My favourite part? Meet Market – not just for the masterful pun but for the service element. If love makes the world go around (which it does FYI), then all mags should have their own version of Meet Market. What I want to know is whether anyone’s had a Meet Market Marriage. Imagine THAT feature.
I feel Kylie-level lucky to work on Fabulous and now I feel Bieber-level blessed (jetlag has done nothing to my alliterative powers) to get to work on another title that confirms what seven-year-old me thought: that working as a journalist is the best job in the world.