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Hello...againI’m half-convinced that we deserve a congratulatory paragraph every issue to mark the fact we’ve actually made it through another issue. Issue 4, who’d have thought it? But I’m also growing increasingly aware that it’s probably annoying (it annoys the shit out of me and I write it), so I shall spend the coming weeks deciding if an ego stroking paragraph is needed or not. I think we all know which side of the fence my decision will land.

Issue 4 and fashion; it’s one of these things that seemed like a good idea at the time, like many of our topics. This time, it was the time before we realised we collectively know very little about fashion, so it’s been educational and an exercise in restraint and an excellent excuse to wander around underwear websites under the guise of ‘research’ all at the same time.

Stripes, Paisley, pokka dots and Burberry aside we’ve managed to cobble together articles, illustrations and photography for you and in the process we’ve had 5 frustrating days in shopping centres, 2 carrier bag accidents, 1 samosa, 172 cups of tea, 1 bout of food poisoning (that could be samosa related?), broken 1 camera, broken 3 coat hangers, lost 2 square metres of wardrobe, bought 1 big tub of Sudocrem and had 1 embarrassing conversation with a waxer.

Fashion down, on with the next issue: Art. Anyone fancy getting their inner artist out and contributing? Well get in touch!

Good Bad Ugly

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OK, so in case you’ve forgotten our tongue in cheek mission? Well, when you go to the shops and spend £4 on a magazine, do you feel robbed? We do. We’ve just spent the best part of £4 on a magazine that’ll insult our intelligence, try to sell us stuff, beg for a subscription and finally steal 20 minutes from us.We’ve all been robbed for years so here at GoodBad Ugly we’re having a half-arsed attempt at doing something about it, and at our own cost we’re producing a magazine that we’re hoping will avoid any and all thievery.

The ‘Mission’

Hello

She’s in Fashionthe real inside of a fashion magazine

Aufweidersehen, Kids!is a pet the new child?

Galleryfashion photography on the platform

Alternative Reviewshow long before it’s odd to be real instead of fake

A Brand New Wardrobe Without Spending a Pennyproof that digging through your wardrobe might save you a penny or ten

The Gallerythe high street chic

ContentsGOOD

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front page detailsphoto: Sophie Ellen Lachowycz

make up: Jayde Chorltonmodel: Ashli Rossetti

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by Rebecca Glassell illustration by Emily WallisShe’s in Fashion

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Iam no big fashionista but when I found out that I got the internship at the coolest weekly glossy fashion magazine in London, excitement levels were high. Outfits had to be planned! Of course I watched “The

Devil Wears Prada” and fantasized about the glamour and flair I was going to be a part of. It was only a two-week internship but that did not stop me from telling everyone I met about it. This would change my life. I was going to work at a super-trendy fashion mag.

Perhaps I had built this up a bit too much, because the reality was pretty far from my imagination. My high hopes and expectations fell the first day and the understand-

ing of what this experience would be turned out to be something very different. Girls were not groomed to perfection and walking around in the latest Louboutins. They

were not all skinny model-like figures thinking they were rulers of the universe. Nor was the office particularly glitzy. It was an office. An office with regular people.

Nice people. Mostly very nice, friendly people. There was some attitude, but no workplace is complete without it, and even that attitude seemed to melt away when I

revealed I had lived in New York City for a bit.

This was about as far as I could let my fantasy slide; normal people, normal office. But what I was not prepared for at all were the tasks that need to be done to run a regular office! My first task was to go and buy breakfast for one of the main editors. I had to deliver the correct newspapers to the correct desks, sort out everyone’s mail into about twenty-five piles on my little desk (it was impossible!) and constantly run down to the courier room to pick up packages of shoes, clothes, and promotional things. The rest of my time was consumed by organizing lots of old issues and filing dockets for all the packages that were returned. The first day was a little discourag-ing. But by the end of the two weeks I was getting the hang of sorting the mail and where everyone sat and what their names were. I even made good friends with the mailroom guy. It was an interesting and fun experience, except for one extremely disturbing element: the peep-toe, lace up boot wedge. I do not know what it is called, but that is what it is; a high-heeled wedge, boot-like shoe that has laces and a peep-toe. Why do these exist? But more importantly, why are they being worn in the office of a widely read fashion magazine? Clogs are a hundred times better than those things. The sight of the horrid footwear definitely gave me some doubts about the fashion world and who is running it. But hey, I was never a fashionista, what do I know?

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Auf Weidersehen, Kids!

With the average lifetime cost of raising a child in Britain now at £166,000, creating a ‘mini – me’ has never been so costly. Many Brits are starting to catch on to the fact that £166,000 is quite a lot to pay for

a lifetime of nappies, chicken pox, school fees, tantrums and constant whining for everything from wham bars to UGG boots to drug money. Under the current economic climate, penny pinching Brits with sophisticated taste and a sprinkling of sensibility are opting for an alternative route to self extension…

Now widely recognised as a social embarrassment and aesthetic hindrance, children are swiftly being replaced by a cheaper, easier and now prettier method of self extension: the domestic pet. More and more Brits are feasting upon their new roles as puppeteers for all aspects of their beloved pet’s lives – from their diet, to their clothes and even the size of their bollocks. When you can dress your dog in adorable floral tea dresses, booties, spritz it with delicate showers of Kennel No.5 perfume and enjoy marvelling at what a twee little thing you’ve created without fuss, I ask you why you would go to the trouble of trying to force a wailing writhing, Marilyn Manson worshipping ten year old child into trousers and a jumper, when he’s desperate to run around in 5 day old pants and insist on green streaks amid his greasy mullet? It’s no myth that pets can be more obedient – and most importantly, have no choice but to ‘respect thy human mother and thy human father.’ They cannot rebel against mummy’s need for baby to be ‘just like them.’ They cannot reject the need for a sense of style and hygiene. They cannot call the NSPCC when daddy sends him to the man in a white coat for a testicular enhancement. For the modern, value-for-money seeking, convenience hungry Brit, escalators are the new stairs, high street is the new designer and pets are the new kids. So, not everyone’s moaning about the credit crunch then!...Prrrrr.

by Katie Morley

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Alternative ReviewsGOOD

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photos by: Lotte Simons model: Jay Vander Woodsen

The G

allery

photos: Lottee Simons model: Jay Vander Woodsen

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the gallery

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I’m beginning to worry for my safety. Each issue the ‘editor’ guy takes a greater interest in my alternative reviews. At first it was the odd typo or tweak, then it developed into a ‘good’ idea here and there and now, now it’s

turned into him handing me a bag and some instructions whilst wearing the widest of wide grins. This issue is Fashion, so I had some big plans. I could have been a contender, I could have done ‘how easy is it to audition a model’, ‘what makes for the best underwear material’, ‘when is blonde too blonde’, but no. Nope, instead I’m given a bag containing several bottles and an envelope, as he utters, “We’re going to get you waxed.”Now, I’ve already had to shave the best part of my body due to a porridge, honey and jam mishap, have I not suffered enough? Apparently not! The envelope contained a voucher for a ‘back, sack and crack’ waxing. A flying visit to Google and I’m genuinely concerned for my well-being. He also had the cheek to say, “I got you some other waxing stuff, in case you decided to wax anything else, as it’ll only be 3 reviews otherwise.”Fuck off, just fuck off!

I’m not too sure how to describe this, but I’m quite a hairy lad. To the

extent that as the - I don’t even know what to call her – waxer (?) lady larruped on the wax she mentioned that I might have been better off trimming up before hand. A bit late, don’t you think? And off with the first strip before I could finish my sentence. Back-waxing is easy. I took it like a man, whimpering frantically, but it doesn’t really hurt that much.

Full of confidence following my triumphant back waxing, I moved straight onto the crack. How hard can crack-waxing be? I mean how much waxing can your crack need?Apparently quite a lot. You see, they lie. It’s not just your crack that’s waxed, it’s your whole arse. Why would anyone want their arse waxed? It hurts, oddly the left cheek hurt more than that right, but nothing compared to the actual crack itself. I thought I was going to shit myself.

Again, this triplet of ‘acks’ they’ve got going is a lie, a

complete lie. It’s not just your sack, it’s that whole region. Every single hair close to your balls is going to go and there’s nothing you can do about it. Honestly, absolutely nothing will prepare you for the pain of having your balls stretched and ripped at the same time. I’ve always said there are two things I don’t want to see near my balls, and they are fire and blood. I now have a third: wax. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I think I’m genuinely mentally scarred from this experience…it made my balls bleed.

The Back

The Crack The Sack

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illustration by DaVinci

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The Alternative Review

GOODBAD

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by Matthew Head XXL (artwork) by Thomas Keeley

A Brand New Wardrobe Without Spending a Penny GOOD

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Fashion can be a real uphill struggle; a real wander in the wilderness. I mean I love it, don’t get me wrong, but it can be a fickle friend indeed. One moment it makes me feel great and sexy and confident,

and the next it makes me feel pretty bad – usually because I look in my wardrobe (which is stuffed to absolute bursting point) and think, “Dear God, I’ve known trained monkeys with better taste, why did I buy any of this?” This sighed exclamation is then normally followed by several moments of picking things out, throwing them on the floor, kicking them, and then collapsing on the bed; after all of which I am exhausted and I just put on what I know looks okay, not brilliant by any means, but okay.

That rather sad process of choosing outfits used to be my life (yeah, I know, it was exciting right?) until one very happy and shiny day I was in town on one of my

almost-daily self-torturings (where I go and look endlessly at clothes I can’t afford and end up buying something impulsively), when I realised something important. I

saw on a model a shirt that was pretty much exactly the same as a shirt I had bought the previous year, and which had been subject to one of my kickings that morning.

Waves of guilt crashed over me. I imagined the shirt, curled up and crying on my bedroom floor. “Why have you forsaken me!” it screamed, “Don’t you see I’m

actually technically in fashion!”

I ran home and tore open my wardrobe doors. I picked the shirt up off of the floor and gave it (unashamedly) a brief hug. All of a sudden, clothes that I had resigned to being old and useless were popping out at me. No, they weren’t new, they weren’t ‘this season’ – but they still had worth. Colours, shapes, patterns and sizes all began to come to my mind, and by cross-referencing (if one can do such a thing with clothes) what I had there in my wardrobe with what I knew to be on trend from my many shop visits, I was able to give birth to the best (and possibly only) notion I ever gave birth to.

Inspiration, Imagination, Organisation. The three best words for fashion lovers and paupers anywhere. I was inspired by the fashions in the shops – that gave me an

image in my mind. With my super-fantastic imagination I could re-invent the clothes I already had into new outfits and new combinations that were similar to the shop

ideas. And by being a bit more organised than throwing things on the floor, and by keeping those outfits together in my wardrobe, I now stand a much better chance of

not spending money I don’t have and not throwing a hissy-fit each morning (hooray!). The way I see it now, fashion only need be a wilderness if you let it

control you. If you control it, well, let’s just say that no more shirts, dresses, cardigans or shorts need to be crying on the floor ever, ever again.

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Alternative Reviews

photos - Sophie Ellen Lachowyczmake up - Jayde L Chorltonmodel - Emily Sibbons

Summer DressH&M

TutuZara

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Alternative Reviews

Long BlueMiss Selfridge

Black LeggingsRiver Island

Black Patent HeelsTop Shop

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Gallery High

Street Ch

ic

Alternative Reviews

Black & White StripeH&M

High Waisted ShortsMiss Selfridge

Beaded NecklaceTop Shop

Black Patent HeelsTop Shop

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Alternative Reviews

Black Patent HeelsTop Shop

Grey Skinny Fit JeansZara

Black & White TopBank

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next issue: art

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issue one: tv issue two: food

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issue three: fake