Another month has gone by, and with it, another thousand pages of glossy, gently perfumed menswear journalism has arrived on our doorstep.

Naturally, we’ve got a few opinions.

Here’s everything you need to know from this month’s magazine:

 
GQ (296 pages):

Damn, that ’66 Bronco redux looks like fun.

Quote of the month, from Adam Scott: “I get a sense of how far we’ve come technologically when something like HBO GO comes out and people aren’t in the streets, screaming with joy and masturbating.” Well, maybe you aren’t.

Alejandro Ingelmo’s calfskin leather duffel bag looks pretty cool, until you think about putting it through baggage handling and have a nervous breakdown. Our rule of thumb: never travel with a bag you wouldn’t gently drop-kick.

Guys in cologne ads never button their shirts.

A “shame-free appletini,” GQ? No such thing.

Our co-sign of the month: the Chromexcel Medicine Ball from Context. It works wonders.

Wearing a tuxedo jacket without a tuxedo is like wearing half a spacesuit.

The “action hero jackets” page gets +1 for big-upping The Thing and -2 for including the phrase “Yippee-ki-yay, jacket wearer.”

Put-down of the month, from (who else?) Glenn O’Brien: “Your father’s [camel-colored] suits are for coaching in the NBA or teaching high school physics.”

Hey, look, it’s Herman Cain. Whatever happened to that guy?

Would you like to read a description of Jay-Z looking at a Cy Twombly painting? Of course you would.

Putting the Lonely Island guys in holiday sweaters and fake ’70s album covers is the best kind of kitsch.

 
Details: (152 pages)

For some reason, this whole magazine smells like Jean Paul Gaultier’s Le Male. Just letting you know.

Alex Zhang Hungtai (aka Dirty Beaches) shows up for an editorial in GQ and a third of a page in Details. Maybe it’s the hair?

Oh hey, there’s a car filled with Burberry.

Endorsement of the month, from Guy Ritchie: “Now I do Brazilian jujitsu five days a week. It’s like chess for wrestlers.” Remind us not to pick any fights with him.

For winter, they’re recommending wool trousers, cashmere blazers and heavy knit ties. We’re hard-pressed to disagree.

Marled sweaters are every bit as well loved as they were at this time last year. Anybody who picked one up last December is officially vindicated.

The insanely Details-y article of the month: three pages on the art of the cleanse. The secret, it turns out, is not eating anything.

The back section is split between long-form profiles of Jeremy Renner and a modernist house in Switzerland. Renner seems cooler.

 
Esquire: (240 pages)

Scott Raab really didn’t like Step Brothers, and by god, he’s going to let John C. Reilly know about it.

Esquire’s “Nine Best Books of the Year” doesn’t include any of the big event books (Didion, Eugenides, Art of Fielding, etc.). Also, it looks like there are only seven of them.

Life-changing wisdom of the month: Dave Wondrich shares the secret of Irish coffee. Our lives may never be the same.

In their description of the French cuff, they forget to mention that nobody who doesn’t own a hedge fund should ever wear one.

The $1,000 wardrobe is heavy on Dockers, J.Crew, Uniqlo and Muji. We could have done without the H&M—and maybe thrown in some vintage diving—but that’s a pretty solid lineup.

Matt Stone and Trey Parker are the only overlap between GQ’s Men of the Year and Esquire’s Americans of the Year. Just goes to show: magazine writers really, really love musicals. (See also: Julie Taymor.)

Kind of feels like they just gave Paul Ryan and Tucker Carlson two pages in the middle of the magazine to balance out everything else. Bipartisanship!

If you’re going to shoot a solemn black-and-white editorial about a single item of clothing, the overcoat is a pretty good pick.

 
Miscellany:

Esky UK’s Melanie Sykes pictures are on some ’68 Playboy style. Their PJs are pretty handsome, too.

We really wanted to say something funny about the fall/winter VMan, but it’s too high-level—like menswear as seen from space.

—R.B.

CONTRIBUTORS

  • Russell Brandom