What I Learned Reading GQ as a Young Lesbian Feminist

I started reading GQ Magazine in the early 2000s. The first issue I remember looking at was May 2000. The cover was a very revealing photo of Estella Warren in a white unzipped sweater that showed off her breasts and stomach. Her thumbs were hooked around her red panties, and her hair was blown out with what I can only imagine was a wind machine. The headline read, “Estella Got Her Groove: The Winsome Ms. Warren is the Next Big Thing.” I was just eleven years old when I read this.

In the early stages of my fascination with my dad’s magazine subscription, I would flip through the pages and primarily look at the pictures. If there were small snippets, I would read those and skim through the longer articles. I normally read GQ on the toilet in my parent’s bathroom. It was my go-to bathroom material. My dad kept a stack of them piled up on a magazine rack for easy access. The latest issue was always on top.

I was attracted to how thick the magazine was. There was a lot to flip through during my longer sessions. And I was intrigued by the aesthetics. Not so much by the lascivious covers but rather the expensive fashion ads. I admired men’s fashion and was fascinated with well-dressed men. Probably because, growing up in Iowa, men didn’t dress particularly well. They dressed comfortably, and I lived in a college town, so 95% of the men wore university apparel with jeans or sweatpants. And dressing up meant wearing a polo or checkered shirt with dress shoes. And dressing up for meetings and special…