I gradually outgrew my infatuation with Victoria‘s pretty but cluttered world. (My Real Simple tenure was partly to blame.)
Still, when Victoria folded in 2003, I was heartbroken because my dream of being a part of its staff was over.
Four years later, I received a postcard in the mail announcing Victoria‘s relaunch. Nostalgic for the memories we shared together, I subscribed immediately.
When the new issue arrived, nothing in it held my fancy. Maybe it was the absence of Nancy Lindemeyer’s touch. Or the dearth of Toshi Otsuki’s photographs. But in truth, nothing was wrong with it. Victoria was the same. I had changed.
“When I began Victoria magazine, I always said that it was for the women who loved their grandmothers as I did. And who would never forget the legacy of womanhood they gave them. It was much more than appreciation of a gracious time. It was a sense of what was beautiful in life—of what to hold on to that expresses the best we have to give.” —Nancy Lindemeyer