A tribute to print media

It’s a sad goodbye as many outstanding print magazines shut down in South Africa. It was an era worth celebrating

Words and photographs Tess Paterson

Like so many print journos, magazines were my happy place for over two decades. It was the only realm I wanted to work in. Titles like Femina and National Geo were always just there. Anticipated each month, devoured in an afternoon, re-read at leisure. The art of delayed gratification, before the internet taught us to want everything yesterday.

Editors were influencers long before the term was coined

Over the past few years, amid a growing choice of content platforms, print has been on the wane. Looking back, working in this medium was an extraordinary adventure – chasing the high of landing those really worthwhile stories. In the mid nineties  there was ad spend and optimism. We tracked down interesting people using trusty tools like actual conversation and landlines. Invitations to cool places and events arrived by fax. Editors were influencers long before the term was coined; the advent of email entranced us all.  The lead times were longer, yet we were always on deadline. We photographed on transparency, kept our favourite polaroids, schlepped tripods like Uzzis. It was the antithesis of office job monotony.

Press trips were a thing. New titles swooped in among the stalwarts. SA Country Life was launched, and contributing to this wonderful brand always gave me a kick: fending off giant crickets in the Namib desert with a large G&T. Trying not to think about puffadders as we plunged through waist-height grass on foot in Kruger. Island hopping in Mozambique’s sublime Quirimbas. 

Mostly the pay was spectacularly average. But the reward was work that at its best felt like a good party with friends. When working at Food & Home Entertaining, a press trip to Mexico came up. I said, ‘Gotta check my diary, get back to you.’ Not. That ebullient, creative country still pulses through my mind – Chichen Itza, the blue walls of Frida Kahlo’s home, the juicy tang of fresh pineapple in Mexico City’s Zocalo. And an incurable devotion to frozen margheritas. That same year, my colleague and friend Angela Richardson and I parasailed over Le Touessrok in Mauritius. Seriously, people. For work!

Being surrounded by creative people and beautiful things is just good for the soul

In between some hum-drum jobs and the pursuit of freelance travel, I worked as a decor editor and stylist. Being surrounded by creative people and beautiful things is just good for the soul. Styling proved to be an underrated art; bigger decor features meant weeks of sourcing. Whole centuries were spent in a hot car, packing and unpacking fragile appro’d props. En route I’d shoot the breeze with lovely shop owners, drink too much coffee, get uncharacteristically chatty. The upshot was a lifelong besottedness with Lewis & Wood, the Eames House Bird and anything Pierre Frey.

On location, decor shoots were like moving house. We laughed a lot. There was a manic rearranging of furniture. Pets were shuffled into shot, cajoled to sit on linen sofas and look appealing. Once, for a patient hour, our photographer whispered sweet nothings to a pug’s hunched, turned back. Fleetingly, when we got it right, we summonsed up a bit of print magic – beautiful products, glorious settings, stunning light. When we looked again, the pug had dozed off and was drooling on a hand-knotted silk rug.

One editor wisely advised, ‘Tone it down, it’s not the bloody Taj Mahal’

I learned some useful lessons from print media. From legendary editor Mary Jane Harris, I learned to recognise the difference between interesting trends, passing fads, and eternal classics. When I waxed too lyrical over a destination, another editor advised, ‘Tone it down, it’s not the bloody Taj Mahal.’ I discovered that the true professionals, no matter their industry, would always respond when asked for editorial comment. They instinctively understood the very real power of print. And war journalist Al J Venter, who encouraged me to fly to Mogadishu and write a story on women in the combat zone, told me this: ‘The intro is everything. You’ve got to grab them by the balls and drag them in!’ (Sorry, language).

Working for magazines took me to the pristine Okavango Delta, a battered post-Tsunami Thailand, an overcrowded Venice which, as Covid-19 has shown, deserves less cruise ships and more clean waterways. For Panorama Magazine, at the very beginning, I visited a rural community in the dry wasteland of Sekhukhuneland (now part of Limpopo). Like countless unsung women, Rose Mazibuko had initiated an upliftment programme – primary school feeding schemes, veggie farming, adult literacy. The hope was completely life-affirming. 25 years on, that hope desperately needs rekindling in South Africa.

Digital publishing is a marvelous thing. But I will always have a soft spot for print: settling in with a new mag, a bar of dark Lindt and a quiet hour is one of life’s wondrous escapes. It was a privilege to work with mad, creative originals who produced quality reads, remaining true to their brands issue after issue. To the editorial teams, photographers, PRs, designers, retailers, and everyone who shared their world with us – it’s been real. And to the readers, our lifeblood, perhaps with your support, some of these gems will continue sustainably online.