Designing Editors: Maxim

Maxim, the laddie monthly imported nine years ago from Britain and revised on these shores, unveiled a fresh look for the May 2006 issue, its 101st. The timing couldn't have been worse. Within weeks, editor-in-chief Ed Needham was gone and rumors were flying that owner Dennis Publishing U.S.—a magazine group that also includes Stuff and Blender —was on the block.

Needham's replacement, Jimmy Jellinek (formerly Stuff's editor), is now in an awkward spot. It's possible he'll be denied the top dog's privilege of putting his own visual stamp on Maxim anytime soon. Plus, he may be vulnerable to the whims of new overlords. (Dennis, which just announced plans to open a Maxim hotel and casino in Las Vegas, refuses to confirm or deny scuttlebutt about a pending sale.)

The good news? Maxim's redesign—the work of creative director David Hilton —is clearer, brighter, and tidier than in the past. And if you think adjectives like those don't mesh with guys and their raucous fantasies and messy sock drawers, think again. This lad mag may wallow in beer and babes, but its layout is still about boxes and borders.

DEPARTMENTS
Clarity and distinction are introduced through use of City in Maxim's department headlines. Broken up into dots like marquee names spelled in lights, the type has color gradients and patterns within words. It works particularly effectively well to introduce the hodgepodge section formerly known as "Circus Maximus"—now renamed the snappier "Circus"—suggesting not only the sporting connotations of slab serifs (a style commonly found on athletes' jerseys), but added glamour, as well. This page spread also reveals the new design's flaunting of bold arrows, double carats, and that bizarre fad sweeping consumer publications: the copy block set in a cartoon-like thought bubble, complete with a little tail. Who knew a giant squid could think?

FEATURE WELL
The A.D.D. quality of lad mags translates into fractured little text blocks rather than continuous narrative. Still absent, then, in the magazine's latest visual incarnation is a clear transition from Maxim's front sections—a pepperpot of small stories and pictures—to its feature well. But, there is improvement. Look for large, well-executed photos introducing articles, and thick black borders that now work better than previous layouts at taming chopped-up content and leading the eye where it ought to go. If all else fails, when you start finding multiple pictures of the same babe, you'll definitely know you've reached the main part of the book.

BOTTOM (uh) LINE
Just as the verb "score" has two distinct meanings honored equally by the American male, so too do beer-and-babe magazines owe equivalent debts to sports and sex. With its embrace of red, black, boldface, slabs, charts, copy chunks, and, oh yeah, scantily-clad young lovelies, Maxim old and new resembles nothing so much as Sports Illustrated. While its advertising revenues may have flagged, Maxim's at the top of its game, visually speaking. Let's hope it can stay there.

Julie Lasky is the editor-in-chief of I.D. (International Design) and a former editor of Interiors. A widely published writer and critic, she has contributed to The New York Times, Slate, and The American Scholar.