There it is! The white curve of Red’s R in a deeply red square in the upper
 shelf at Barnes & Noble, right next to the magazine named “culture.”

Tomorrow I hope to indulge again in one of my favorite rituals: looking for the cover of Red Magazine in the rack at Barnes & Noble. More than once, my husband has asked why I don’t subscribe to it since I read it regularly. But I won’t do that! Why? Because there is something to that thrill of looking for it, hoping it will be there, and the disappointment when it isn’t. Since it is a British publication, it arrives in the U.S. with some delay, and one can never be sure when it will be there.

I am re-enacting a ritual of my years growing up in Germany. I’ve always been a magazine freak, and following a trip to the U.S. when I was 15, I fell in love with Glamour magazine (Just as I fell in love with Red on a trip to London in ’07.). Every month, I would stop by the International Press Magazine stand at the main train station in Munich, looking for Glamour. It was the same deal with Glamour as it is now with Red: Sometimes it was there, often it was not. But when it was, carrying it to the cash register and paying the extra high price in foreign currency was an extra thrill. Like a found treasure. And then, settling into the commuter train seat, or nowadays my couch, to read that issue, was/is a treat.