Since moving to New York City less than two years ago, I've relied on New York Magazine's confusing online sprawl for everything from shoeing myself like une parisienne à l'étranger (French Sole, 985 Lexington) to ordering Sunday brunch delivery in a barely audible, post-martini hiss (Kitchenette Uptown, 1272 Amsterdam). But it was sometime around Fashion Week last fall, as I wasted time navigating their clunky web bog of commentary and slideshows, that I took matters into my own hands and demanded (i.e. wrote a polite comment suggesting) that something be done about the untightness of online content organization.
Behold the re-designed homepage:
Function --> form. My touch --> golden. Sense of self --> overinflated. This post --> over.