My shameful media addiction...

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Originally uploaded by allegra_collins.

I always feel a sense of guilty pleasure whenever I open a glossy. I remember English teachers in high school advising us to put down our sopies of tawdry teen bibles like Bliss, Sugar, Mizz and J17 to name a few, in favour of books, preferably classical novels. So even now, when with years of dipping into all the newsagents have to offer and consequentially whittling down my reading to what's deemed as "quality", I still feel terrible spending my time flicking excitedly through the pages rather than delving into a Penguin Classic.
My latest magazine fetish, the fashion glossy, came both through age, and living in a shared student house that happens to have a beautiful, but stupidly big coffee table made from driftwood. It looked bare with merely a few coasters and junk mail, like a doctor's surgery with tattered gossip weeklies, and truly dressed up with our latest extravagant fashion titles.

And through personal penchants, being a soppy romantic at heart, the visually beautiful, no matter how contrived, appeals to me. From gorgeous advertisements for high fashion to artistic photoshoots, and the glossy paper.

I must waste about £20 a month on "mags". Going into WH Smith on a weak day and leaving with a well-filled carrier bag is an experience I am all too used to.