I've always had this (childhood-rooted) addiction to the scent of new books. Leaflets, textbooks, magazines, novels; it just doesn't matter. For me, there's something deliciously exciting about opening a piece of freshly bound literature that makes me instantly content. I think this is where my magazine habit began. The feeling of hearing a new Elle or Vogue thud on my doorstep, or finding it lying bound in plastic packaging on my bed really makes my day. I adore rifling through the images in a new edition like an excitable child with a flicker book.
So when I found the following book in Paris' musee des Arts Decoratifs this Sunday I was doubly delighted. Not only does the book document the history of Vogue, the pinnacle of my magazine addiction, but it's brick-like weight promises hundreds of beautifully scented and decorated pages of fashion gluttony.
My happiness increased even more when I found it on Amazon for £23.43; a mere third of its 70 euro price in the museum shop.