As your calendar should’ve notified you, we’re a week into December—which means the new crop of magazines hit the newsstands a little bit ago. But in case they got lost in the holiday jumble, we’ve flipped through them all to give you the lowdown on everything you need to know about this month in menswear journalism.

The December issues were full of reflection on a year that seemed more dismal to some (Esquire) than others (GQ) and mostly about watching TV to Details. And, for the first two, possibly about ushering in a new era of the casually printed nipple. (Here’s to looking forward to 2013 on that one.)

Without further ado, we bring you the month in menswear journalism.

 
GQ (305 pages)

It’s the Men of the Year issue. Rihanna is on the cover. We’re not going to ask questions.

A few last-chance digs at Mitt Romney in the letter from the editor.

Their “best stuff of the year” section includes endorsements for an electric motorcycle, a backpack designed for astronauts and a marijuana vaporizer. We’re nearly positive our younger brother somehow had a hand in these selections.

A good reminder to beware of the new era of the custom suit—when ensuring the right fit, you’re just as liable as your itinerant tailor, so be informed.

RL Vintage getting some more shine.

We know you’re not supposed to judge a book by it’s cover, but can we judge this “reading man’s guide to dirty books” by the bare-breasted woman reading in a chaise lounge they’ve used as their opening page? (Because we’re giving it a thumbs up. When was the last time a print mag that isn’t 18+ this blatant with boobs?)

Okay, now the opening shot of Rhianna has taken side-boob to a whole new level by including, yes, side areola. The floodgates of printed nipple have opened.

Looks like we can all agree on Christopher Walken’s icon status.

More love for NASA’s Mars Rover Team.

Aside from harping on the Libya debacle, 2012 was a much happier year according to GQ than it was to Esquire

Not exactly sure what this editorial of the guy from Girls running around in 70s jogging outfits is… but okay.

 
Esquire (184 pages)

Hmmm… we’re being promised “the Americans of the year” by Esquire, which seems eerily similar to the “men of the year” from GQ. Just sayin’.

There’s this new thing they’re doing called Netpage—an iPhone app that interacts with the page without any QR codes or… whatever, it’s “magic” and “electronic” and “revolutionary” and we’re not using it because it would defeat the purpose of this exercise. It’s already been mentioned like five times in the first 10 pages of print (half the editor’s letter is dedicated to it).

More basically-unobstructed views of areola. December has descended into a lawless free-for-all of near-nudity. This time, courtesy of Jaime Lee Kirchner (for a second there, you thought we were going to end that with “Curtis” didn’t you? For a second.)

You had to know a flaming punch bowl recipe from Charles Dickens existed.

The tweed down jacket from Moncler looks cozy.

Hey, a ringing endorsement of our turtleneck enthusiasm.

Cosign every last thing on their American-made list.

This Oral History of 2012 is depressing… Sometimes Esquire likes to keep it too real.

Then again, one of their (honorary) Americans of the Year, is Prince Harry. Great call. Also, great sentence: “If you go to Vegas and you don’t find yourself holding a cue, naked, in a room full of strangers, you’ve misunderstood the purpose of that city.”

Alright, after fifty-some-odd pages of pop culture and heart wrenching recounts of shootings, we get back to some menswear: tuxedos. Good stuff. Especially the double-breasted cashmere-silk number from Cuccinelli.

 
Details (164 pages)

Okay, so the puffy down jacket with wool (or tweed) instead of a technical shell is officially a thing. Just making sure you knew.

Scotch in a cocktail? Sure, why not.

You can now own a wireless speaker suited in Italian wool. #menshear

We’re not saying that Idris Elba isn’t a great choice for the new Tanqueray spokesman, but he just can’t fill the gaping hole in our hearts left by the fictitious Tony Sinclair.

This is great: a street-style montage of the shlubby CEOs of Silicon Valley at annual CES Conference. It’s like the bizarro-world Sartorialst.

While we like where this “velvet revolution” editorial is going, we can’t help but wish there was at least one red option for the upcoming holiday season. (And our dream of making “Menswear Santa” a real thing.)

Jil Sander looks good in a crisp white dress shirt and a black blazer. Of course she does.

Hey, a spread on winter boots that aren’t galoshes—just like our must-have of citified boots. Great minds…

—N.B.

CONTRIBUTORS

  • Najib Benouar