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 The Real Simple Life

Real Simple magazine, published by Time, Inc., is one of the new breed of women’s magazines that has repackaged the shopworn ideas that used to fill Redbook and Ladies Home Journal, for a modern upscale reader. Instead of recipes telling women how to use staples like hamburger in 20 different ways, Real Simple reveals how to turn leftover artisanal bread into Ribollita. Real Simple has also updated the beauty and fashion pages of those magazines of yore by pointedly adding the brand names and photos of products mentioned in the editorial. That way, when a reader is searching for a cosmetic eye pencil they will immediately understand that not just any eyeliner will do. No, they should shop specifically for the Chanel Automatic Liquid Eyeliner for $30. While these articles may be informative, they have almost nothing to do with simplicity as most middle- and working-class people understand it.

During the last ten years, the population of the US has solidified many of the lifestyle changes that have been evolving since the 1960s. This is particularly true for women who used to be homemakers but now routinely juggle work with motherhood and housekeeping. As a consequence they have little time left for the homespun niceties that were once part of emulating the lives of the wealthy. After commuting at least two hours per day, working eight more, grocery shopping, putting dinner on the table, doing a load of laundry, rinse and repeat, activities like writing thank you notes, preparing homemade meals or perfecting napkin-folding have fallen by the wayside.

Given the go-go nature of modern living, with all its demands, both necessary and perceived, it is no wonder that the idea of simplicity as a lifestyle choice has gained favor. Real Simple isn’t the only purveyor of the simple life. The Simple Living newsletter, dozens of websites, television shows and books also promote simplifying as the antidote to harried living. While all of those outlets are primarily trying to sell products, none have so wholly bastardized the idea of simplification and married it to tried-and-true, American over-consumption as has Real Simple.

What’s in a name?

According to their media kit, “Real Simple gives busy women the information, inspiration and tools they use to enjoy easier, more balanced lives. Filled with practical, actionable solutions to everyday challenges, we help our readers do the things they have to do, so they can spend more time doing what they want to do. These solutions are as soulful as they are real — the collective voice of wise women and the advice you'd get from a trusted friend.”

Another trusted friend, Merriam Webster, says that the word simple means, “not involved or complicated; easy; free from ostentation or display; not embellished or adorned; of humble origin or modest position.”

Using “not involved or complicated,” as a starting point, Real Simple makes a limp stab at embodying this first idea with stories about how to clean-up messy areas of one’s home, prepare uncomplicated meals and find multiple uses for common, household products. Sure, telling readers that their lazy Susan spice rack can do double-duty as a revolving tray for dying Easter eggs is undeniably silly [“Solutions”]*. And referring to a $102 Danze showerhead as, “affordable,” is a stretch of the imagination [“Hot heads”]. But, if — as the dictionary tells us — simplicity eschews ostentation, it follows that it must also disdain the too-pricey. And within this context, Real Simple fails utterly.

Just examining the graphic design of the magazine indicates that there is nothing inelegant or inexpensive about it. Obviously modeled on Martha Stewart Living, the pages are filled with large, beautiful photos, tiny bits of elegantly placed text and an abundance of white space. Each spread is dazzlingly arranged to highlight products over ideas. And every eye-catching photo includes a caption describing where a specific product can be purchased. To look at these stylized pages full of shelf organizers, newly reupholstered furniture, fashionable clothing and other earth-toned, household bling, is only to covet.

If the articles aren’t envy-provoking enough, the advertising, which is pervasive and upscale, is downright anxiety inducing. Cadillac, Range Rover, Banana Republic, Clinique, Ralph Lauren, Sephora, Wolf, and Chanel all placed ads within the first 70 pages of the 270-page April 2005 issue. In fact, there are no less than 120 ads in the publication, most of them full pages, with 23 of those appearing before the table of contents. So, if Hannibal Lecter is right, when he tells Clarice Starling in The Silence of the Lambs that “you covet what you see,” then one should be thoroughly suffused with the spirit of the second deadly sin by the time they’ve leafed through a mere quarter of the magazine.

To purchase and pay for everything Real Simple's editors and advertisers tell its readers they must have to “simplify” their lives, the average woman would have to work three, high-paying jobs. Perhaps this explains all the ads for credit and financial institutions, like Citi and American Express, scattered throughout. It might also explain the Zoloft ad.

At Issue

In reality, Real Simple, like it’s glossy, sister magazine, In Style is not really promoting simplicity at all. It is promoting a fantasy. In this fantasy, a regular gal, who works too hard for her 62 cents (and shrinking) to the dollar, can one day have a life that is filled with glamorous clothing, expensive bathroom fixtures and delicious home-cooking — and more free time, to boot. Yes, all the fabulous frills can be hers if only she learns the ten, surprising uses for olive oil and lemons [“Make the most of what you’ve got: 10 household items, 101 uses”].

It’s been decades since most women stayed home and had the extra time to obsess about how to add the pleasing embellishments to everyday life that made a box in the suburbs feel more like a gracious manse. Sure, most stay-at-home women didn’t have money to buy luxury items, but they had a burning desire for lifestyle enhancement, two hands and, most importantly, a few free hours a week. With those tools they could create some semblance of an affordable fantasy that included pretty homes, good grooming and the occasional night out to show off a new dress. It wasn’t easy and many had to swallow the bitter taste left from unrealized dreams, but they had an overwhelmingly realistic —simple, if you will — viewpoint. Today’s women —and men — have greater, often unrealistic, material expectations. They want more money, bigger houses, more expensive toys and more free time with which to enjoy those things. It is not inherently immoral to aspire to a more abundant lifestyle, but for many it is just not likely. By putting a beautiful face to the lie of having it all, Simple Living gives the desirous all the more they can handle — if only within its pages.

The reality that belies these dreams is that many middle- and working-class Americans are seeing their expendable incomes begin to diminish through wage freezes, elimination of overtime pay and creeping inflation, at the same time that they are being told by the media, advertisers and even the President, that they should keep shopping. However, more shopping is antithetical to simplicity. Even if all one did was purchase items to replace the ones they already own, the cost of those purchases alone would complicate life by forcing most people to work harder for the money needed to pay the bills — or to assume more debt, which then complicates life exponentially. Yes, having a neat, clean pantry would make life easier, but having to spend hundreds of dollars for plastic organizers to make that happen is counterproductive [“Pantry problems solved”].

Simplifying one’s life should be, as the idea implies, simple. It should also be inexpensive. Plainly stated, when embarking on the simple life the first thing one should do is to stop buying things one can not easily afford or that create duplication and clutter. The second thing one should do is to throw away everything that one does not need — starting with manipulative, lifestyle magazines. Or maybe that’s the first thing.

* All article title references are to the April 2005 issue of Real Simple.

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