Lost Coordinates

Despite being born from the company’s budget, Colors didn’t speak about Benetton at all. On the contrary, it started as a “magazine about the rest of the world,” a mostly visual publication in which every issue explored a single, simple theme – like “Hair,” “Toys,” or “Fat” – across different countries and cultures, presenting the reader with humorous, surprising insights. Each topic, be it “abortion” or “haircuts,” was approached in the same provocative way. Nothing was treated too seriously. Based on the premise that a joke is the best way to say difficult things, this approach was probably the key to Colors' longevity because it allowed Toscani to attract the reader’s attention towards urgent contemporary issues that often remained outside the mainstream media. For example, Colors’ 17th issue was presented as a pamphlet to “inspire those looking for a job,” but instead listed, among more “traditional” ones, some of the most dangerous, unpleasant, or unpaid professions in the world: windshield-washer; human guinea pig; tunneler. Stories were always conveyed through Benetton’s typical bright, color photography – which occupied most of the pages – and pop graphic design. Texts were essential but effective – often reduced to short, simple paragraphs that didn’t scare readers away.

This approach allowed the public to learn more about the world – and its harshest aspects – while avoiding the doomsday feeling that arises with reading about topics such as genocide, prisons, or HIV. Although the impact was shocking for most, Colors’ success only grew: it ran until 2014, publishing 90 issues – some without Toscani, who left Benetton in 2000 – and it’s still considered among the best magazines in the world.

In the 90s, Colors pioneered a language that was completely disruptive, becoming a point of reference not only for the brand publications that followed but also for communication in general, proving that what we coldly call “content marketing” can generate – if treated with the proper dose of creativity – relevant cultural products.

From the 70s on, fashion became increasingly central, and the magazine began featuring interviews with Japanese designers like Kenzo or Issey Miyake, or inviting European ones like Martin Margiela or Susan Cianciolo into its pages. As it released its 800-plus monthly issues, Hanatsubaki never stopped evolving and rebranding itself. From the 90s, the publication became the go-to reference for the underground fashion of Paris and New York. In contrast with the mainstream editorial approach of the time, it also strongly focused on visuals, even if it meant sacrificing the text. “We championed the communication potency of a single, striking visual over a thousand words,” said Keiko Hirayama, Hanatsubaki’s editor from 1984 to 1992. “Anyone could see how this approach diverged sharply from conventional magazines. If a potential theme for an upcoming issue didn’t promise compelling visuals, we would abandon it.” 

In 1988, 15 years after founding Comme des Garçons, Rei Kawakubo launched Six Magazine, a biannual publication released alongside the brand’s Spring and Fall collections. An experimental interpretation of the traditional catalog – which Kawakubo transformed into “an avant-garde fine arts magazine” – Six was printed in an oversized A3 format whose unstapled pages included mostly black and white photographs by the hottest contemporary photographers, like Bruce Weber and Kishin Shinoyama, and contributes by artists such as Gilbert & George. Its unconventional proportions imposed a physical presence upon the viewer, working – critics have argued – as a “performance in print.” Accompanied by only a few bits of writing, pictures had an artistic quality. They were printed with a distinctive “grain” that evoked Kawakubo’s design aesthetic. Stories varied, but the creative community of the 80s and 90s was always present, both as artists and subjects: In Number 3, a young Naomi Campbell appears photographed by Peter Lindbergh; Azzedine Alaïa, in turn, is portrayed preparing lunch with other supermodels in a laid back space. Number 6 was inspired by Niko Pirosmani’s paintings depicting everyday life in Georgia: Kawakubo and photographer Brian Griffin organized a photoshoot there as a tribute to the artist. In every issue, the pages formed a visual, almost cinematographic storytelling, where clothing pieces only (and if) appeared in the background.

Copies were mailed worldwide to anyone interested, protected by a dust cover and dedicated plastic packaging – which contributed to rendering the magazine a complete design object.

Six, whose name stands for Sixth Sense – “the sense of the surreal” – helped the Japanese brand establish its original, powerful aesthetic universe and spread it. Despite only eight issues published, Six still holds a relevant place in the history of fashion, and its copies remain cultish objects that collectors fight over.