I’m not overly interested in the ‘Credit Crunch’. It’s written about, talked about, it’s even been branded. We knew it was coming, and now we’re living it, and we’ll live it, and then it will be over. So when Zavvi closes its Piccadilly location, and Woolworths goes into administration, I take notice, but I’m not surprised. It’s to be expected, right?

I’ve refrained from writing about recent closures, partly because of our own, ill-fated Chocolat Magazine, but also partly because it’s predictable. Masthead is gone, Wish is over, Blueprint has long since been absorbed into Martha Stewart Weddings. But when my bestie spent $10 to call me from Toronto— on her cell— to inform me that Domino Magazine was the latest victim of the softening economy, I feel, well, disheartened.

Domino is a taste-making bible for it’s audience, and was indeed a source of inspiration to us when developing Chocolat (I was once criticized on an ApartmentTherapy forum for shamelessly ripping off its design. I didn’t, and I do appreciate the defense raised by a fellow Canadian insider’s view that we’re aggressively encouraged to reproduce American titles, so thanks for that, whoever you are). It’s closure will certainly be met with sadness, and if nothing else, an overload of the forums at DesignSponge. The people I know that buy this magazine really want it. They covet and scheme over it’s content, and I’d like to think that they truly represent the Domino audience. At least to its readers, Domino was considered to be a wild success, and will certainly be missed.

But here’s what I say: We have a responsibility to protect what’s ours. So if you want magazines like Domino to exist, buy them. If you want coffee from a local bakery, shell out and get it. If you want content directed toward you, the thrifty, stylish, clever girl, then pay for it. Designer Goods and Service Pages cost money— and you can’t expect them to stick around if demand is ’suspended’ whilst the economy picks up. Keep on reading, window licking, and flicking through. Because if you don’t your sacred pages may be gone for good.

Rolling Stone has announced that it’s changing it’s format, effective the end of October. It’s losing it’s over-size format as well as it’s staples, and will be printed on different paper. I’m sad to hear this icon is changing. It’ll be easier to stock, likely make more money, and perhaps even invite new readers with it’s smaller size, but for me, I’ll miss the nostalgia, as Jann Wenner willingly admits.

I remember the day I bought my very first issue, and I remember exactly who was on the cover. I spent summer holidays floating in the pool at a friends house, reading Rolling Stone, Raygun, & Spin. My walls were covered with the full-page photos from these massive publications, and I still have many of these issues today, albeit in poor condition. I don’t consider the look, feel and texture of Rolling Stone in the same way I do other magazines, because nostalgia has so much to do with it. As a reader, I’m not just handling a magazine and extracting the content, I’m remembering what it was like the first time I discovered music and life outside suburbia. With Spin having already made the switch, and Raygun sadly long gone, Rolling Stone is the last vestige of music mag culture before the digital age. It may be a necessary change, long overdue, but I’ll still shed my tear for the loss of it’s special format.