Published Feb. 8, 2001|Updated Sept. 9, 2005
Boomers, meet My Generation, a new magazine just for you. Oh, did we mention it's from AARP?
On the surface it seems odd, if not foolhardy, to retool America's most widely circulated magazine.
Modern Maturity lands in 21-million mailboxes every two months, aimed at an audience with time to read and money to spend.
But the folks at AARP are no dummies. Though their signature magazine has helped forge the group's membership into a marketing and lobbying juggernaut, it now must navigate a tricky change in demographics.
AARP is having a hard time bringing baby boomers into the fold. More than 11,000 turn 50 every day, but they aren't crazy about it. Three out of four toss AARP's solicitation letter into the trash.
The hangup isn't the $10 membership fee; one motel discount can cover that. The blame lies with negative stereotypes: Boomers' parents joined AARP, just as they played golf four times a week and scarfed up early bird specials. At least, that's the common image.
Modern Maturity?
What's to like about being mature? Lava lamps and bell bottoms weren't mature. Janis Joplin wailing through a haze of reefer certainly wasn't mature. Mature is staid and responsible. Mature follows all the rules. Mature is dull, dull, old and dull.
Now comes the counteroffensive.
AARP has created My Generation, a new bimonthly magazine "just for baby boomers." It replaces Modern Maturity in the homes of 3-million members 55 and younger.
Actor Ed Harris stares out from the cover, his intensity shrouded in black and white, a hip visage worthy of Rolling Stone. Cover blurbs promise readers they can "Retire Rich! It's Not Too late" and "Have Sex, Live Longer."
Just flip through these pages to enter the Promised Land.
The only reference to AARP is almost subliminal _ a tiny blue logo hidden on a black background. On the chance that some perceptive boomer actually spots the logo, AARP's Web address is listed right alongside as reassurance ("How mature can we be if we are computer savvy?")
AARP has also tweaked Modern Maturity, which still goes out to the bulk of the membership. Its logo proclaims "mm" in big letters stretching two-thirds of the way across the cover, with a demure "modern maturity" in small letters underneath. A stern Clint Eastwood (70) replaces Harris (49) as cover hunk, but the mood remains the same, slick and mysterious.
Will older readers miss their old mag? Who knows? But clearly AARP's future rests with the boomers _ 76-million potential consumers, now ages 37 to 55, who dwarf today's membership.
Fifty-something My Generation editor Betsy Carter has sworn in interviews that the name had nothing to do with the Who's 1965 hit by that name (memorable line: "I hope I die before I get old").
But somebody has been listening to rock oldies. The magazine's health section is titled "Staying Alive." If that's not a deliberate homage to the Bee Gees, then it's an incredibly boneheaded downer. Carter's initial letter to readers is titled, "It's Our Party" (all together now: "and we'll cry if we want too.")
Boomerhood is a "bewildering situation," Carter writes, what with scary health problems, marriages and careers that "took unexpected dips and curves."
A story tracking people's attitudes toward cosmetic surgery adds these unflattering statistics: Fewer boomers are satisfied with their appearance (22 percent) and feel good about themselves (39 per cent) than folks in any other age group.
Chin up, bucko, My Generation is on its way.
"We are committed to reinventing our lives and hanging on to our originality," Carter says.
Originality, of course, is subjective. Like any general purpose lifestyle magazine, My Generation is defined by the challenge of pleasing a diverse audience, which forces it to skim the top without plumbing much depth. It's divided into all the predictable subcategories: work, health, the arts, travel, food, home, finance, etc. A little of this, a little of that, not a lot of anything.
No issue will pass without frothy celeb profiles. Its premiere issue features Harris and Allison Janney, who plays C.J. Cregg, the brainy press secretary on The West Wing.
Janney is just 40, but that's okay because she functions here as a mid-life centerfold, and centerfolds are usually younger women. The headline proclaims "Amazing face," but the accompanying pose invites readers to drop their gaze south, into her braless cleavage. (Do you suppose gender equality will be served, with future issues featuring 40-year-old male pecs?)
The most refreshing piece is an excruciating tale of a New York City judge who gave up the law to teach math to inner city eighth-graders. They ate him alive. "Reinvention" is the aging community's latest buzzword, often deployed in saccharine efforts to cheer up people who've been canned from their jobs. This piece told a compelling story without glossing over the difficulties.
My Generation's ads are nearly identical to the ones in Modern Maturity _ cars, travel, drugs, investments, toys for the grandkids, selling stuff to people with money to spare.
How do MM and MG differ? Focus groups told Carter's crew they wanted lots of information _ and fast. As a result, major sections in the new magazine start out with snippets of advice, things to buy and often trivial statistics (does anyone really care that suicides in England and Wales increased 33 percent in the week after Princess Diana's death?)
The intriguing cover blurb "Have Sex, Live Longer" refers to a single paragraph in the "Staying Alive" section _ about 100 words and only 86 of them believable.
These short takes must sell, because it's hard to crack a magazine these days without plowing through them.
But has anyone put this question to focus groups: If you're juggling the job, the kids, the parents, the home and the dog and you manage to eke out one hour for reading, wouldn't you skip the "how-tos" and "best buys" and seek out a newspaper or magazine that consistently offers unpredictable and well-written tales that occupy more than three pages?
Unlike Modern Maturity, which is solely mailed to members' homes, My Generation also will compete on newsstands in select cities, including Orlando, which provides an interesting measure of its vitality and relevance.
The backbone of circulation, however, will continue to mirror AARP membership. Each year, the cutoff age between My Generation and Modern Maturity will rise. As the first baby boomers turn 56 next year, My Generation will tag along. The year after that, it will go to members 57 and younger, and so forth.
That should guarantee MG an identity and role in popular culture, even if most boomers continue to shun AARP.
Hey, it's only $10 to join AARP. You'll still collect the occasional discount. You might find something useful on its new Web site. And who knows? Maybe you'll get to see Rob Lowe's pecs.
