Last week the publishing industry--and anyone who appreciates reading about fine interior design and gracious Southern living--was dealt another blow. Time Inc. decided to shutter Southern Accents, the 32-year-old magazine where I got my start out of UGA's J-school. I'd be lying to say this was totally unforeseen. It comes on the heels of other closings in the industry, many in the shelter magazine category (Domino, Cottage Living, Country Home. I could go on).
This one, of course, hurts a little more. Well, a lot more. This time it's my friends, whom I worked alongside for years in Birmingham and continued to work with even after moving away, mentioned in memos and articles about the closing. My friends will be cleaning out offices and figuring out what to do next. I know without a doubt that this group of talented, creative, and kind professionals, who have an unfailing knack for finding the region's best tastemakers, chicest homes, and prettiest parties, will continue to thrive in whatever opportunity life hands them. But I'll desperately miss working with them, meeting new people and traveling to new cities as I worked on articles for them, getting my new copy in the mail, and dropping by the SA offices with a box of cookies when I pass through town on I-20.
The September-October issue, which has already wrapped, will be their last. But I, and many others, wish we could at least have one more holiday issue to peruse for ideas. My house may not look like the ones on their pages, but I always found inspiration, especially for holiday decorating and entertaining. (And I know this holiday's issue was going to be great because I wrote about several super parties that were going to be featured.)
Over the last few days, I've thought a lot about Southern Accents and my time there. Here are just a few memories. Please indulge as I reminisce!
In February 2001, when I traveled to Birmingham for an interview with Southern Progress, I thought I had an interview to intern with Southern Living Weddings (which I later did intern with and write for). I was told when I arrived, however, that I also had an interview with Southern Accents. That sent me into panic mode as I had never in my life even looked at a copy of Southern Accents. Never. Ever. I was totally unprepared, and that is not a way I like to be. In some sort of miracle, my interview must have gone well. Or at least better than some! I got the job. And, boy, am I thankful.
I remember once fact-checking quotes for a special article in the 25th-anniversary issue. As was standard procedure, I called up a man who had offered a quote. Let's call him Mr. X. (Not to preserve his anonymity but because I can't remember his name!) I read him his quote. He verified it as accurate. And as I was about to hang up I said: "And how should we identify you? We have others listed as designers, architects, etc. How should I identify you?" To which he said, a bit huffily: "Have you read your masthead?" Oops. He was a senior contributing editor. With a bit of an ego--that I just deflated. Not long after that, my editor, Karen, came by to say she'd talked with him. I was so embarrassed about what happened and, because I was very new, thought I might get a little talking to about being a bit more on top of things. Instead she told me it couldn't have happened to a better person. Whew.
Another time I called a New York fabric showroom to do some fact-checking. As I explained to the man answering the phone: "My name is Mary Beth Harrison and I'm with Southern Accents."
"You're who?"
"Mary Beth with Southern Accents."
"With who?"
"Southern Accents."
"Yes, but with who?"
I was beginning to think I was in the middle of an Abbott and Costello bit. Exasperated, I say again: "I'm Mary Beth Harrison and I'm with Southern Accents."
"Oh!" he exclaims. "You're with Southern Accents magazine."
"Yes," I say. Hadn't I clearly explained that?
"I thought you were telling me you had a Southern accent."
Now why on earth would I feel the need to tell you that? I think it's pretty obvious. From this point on, however, my salutation changed to: "Hi. This is Mary Beth Harrison with Southern Accents MAGAZINE." I didn't want to cause further confusion.
My last two years actually working in Birmingham, I was given the task of producing a special travel section on New York. This was a really big deal for me. Though I'd written lots of things, my main job at that time was as production manager. Priority was putting out fires, pestering people, and making sure we got things to the printer on time (or as close to on time as was humanly possible). Writing came second. New York was my first real chance to produce a major section, which involved brainstorming, orchestrating photography, countless interviews, etc. To announce the debut of the special section to big time New York advertisers, whom we were hoping to lure with this article,
Southern Accents decided to host a fancy par-tay in NYC: cocktails and hors d'oeuvres at the Helly Nahmad art gallery in the swank Carlyle hotel. And I was allowed to attend. Little old Mary Beth from Neese, Georgia, was attending a party with the interior design world's heavy hitters. People like
Bunny Williams, John Roselli, and
Todd Romano were there. I was introduced to
Christopher Spitzmiller, whose handmade ceramic lamps make me swoon. I was feeling very
Sex in the City. But you will not believe what happened as the party was winding down. There was an art heist. Seriously. Someone--not an invitee, someone that crashed the event--attempted to steal an actual Picasso right off the wall. I'm not kidding. I watched the NYPD haul off the perp in handcuffs as I left the party with my editor, Karen, executive editor, Francie, and fabric designer Michael Devine and his partner. We sauntered over for a late-night meal at one of chef Daniel Boulud's famous restaurants. It was a very memorable night. One I totally felt out of place in, but I'm so glad I was there.
Of course there are countless other memories. Late-night vent sessions with my "production mentor" Amy. Monthly birthday celebrations, usually with cake (though Kate and I once volunteered to make homemade ice cream to celebrate our June birthdays ). Taking a trip to tour the plant of our color separator in Maryland at the same time the Beltway Sniper was at large. Laughing at bizarre reader letters--one lady was extremely concerned about our editor's mental state because she thought we used too much blue in the magazine. Placing the orders for countless production meals, usually from Chappy's Deli, and learning the food likes and dislikes for each person in my copy/art/production crew. Ann's M&M jar. You could always judge the stress level of the office by that jar. And then there are all the weddings, baby showers, and going away parties we shared along the way. (I feel like I'm signing the Southern Accents yearbook and it's our senior year!)
It was a privilege to work for such a beautiful publication and to learn from such a talented editorial staff.
The salvinia is so thick around the shore it looks like Matthew could step off the dock and walk out to those trees.
You can at least see a little bit of the lake here.
Here's a closer look at the salvinia.
I can't get over how beautiful these trees are.
