National Job Action Day: An Open Letter to My Dream Job at Glamour Magazine

As someone who will soon be entering her last semester of college and then very, very shortly the job market, November 2nd seemed to be a pivotal obscure holiday to write about. Although I don’t love living in a world which hammers the idea of dream jobs into the young mind because I don’t think we should be taught to dream of working our whole lives, I do conjure up this answer when asked. 

Below, for National Job Action Day, you’ll read my letter to those at Glamour Magazine, aka the place I dream of working.

Hey Glamour Mag,

Glamour (n.): defined as an attractive or exciting quality that makes certain people or things seem appealing

It’s me… one of your biggest fans. Not to brag or anything, but I’ve been poring over your pages for at least 10 years. Every month at the grocery store, I’d see the iconic font in the turnstiles at the check-out and beg my mom to buy it. And then I’d beg her to speed home, groceries in tow, so I could lazily flip through every single page. And I don’t mean lazily in a way that I didn’t care. I just didn’t want to rush the experience of a new edition. 

But unlike many of the girls wishing to be the glamorous women on the pages of the magazine, I actually wanted to be the glamour that caused them.

I still do.

It’s why I’m writing you this letter.

And hey, maybe I’m a hopeless Carrie Bradshaw wannabe. Because I mean, who wouldn’t want to write one column a week and be able to afford gorgeous Manolo Blahnik heels? 

But I can sincerely see myself using my keen knack for attention-to-detail to make everything perfect.

In that same vein, I’ll make sure the women proudly on your pages are baring their imperfections. 

So they become normalized. And accepted. And celebrated. 

The only flawless part of this job will be the end result.

Or maybe my dream comes from another perfectly glamorous rom-com 13 Going on 30. Because let’s face it… the best women’s jobs in those movies center around the female experience.

What better way to capture that than at the forefront of what matters to us in a magazine?

I live to find the latest trends—whether that be political, social or fashion related—and give others the gift of a new edition. Limited edition. My potential for greatness at Condé Nast for Glamour is limitless. 

I live to tell stories. The stories of those who are up-and-coming; the ones who have been in the game and are just now getting recognition; those who don’t see themselves as the main character frequently enough; those who have always had a head full of words and are in search of an outlet.

Speaking of stories, this one I’m writing now is #119 in my portfolio. And that’s just for Her Campus. My pieces run the gamut—from poetry and prose to political musings. I’ve covered musical acts, holidays, personal family stories. I’m versatile. I’m adaptable. I’m a blabbermouth. 

I’ve also written for our campus newspaper. I know the inverted pyramid like the back of my hand. 

I live to make things pretty. 

I know pretty is a subjective term. 

But I want to be part of the people who curate those pages I stared at for so long. The magazine girls reach for in their everyday life and then re-seeked out to make incredible collages. Because our magazine is just that art-worthy. 

And because I’ve been that same girl, willingly chopping up the pages to preserve them forever. 

All in all, I’m trying to bring a little more glamour to my life. But I can only do that with the help of you.

So, please, consider me, Condé Nast. I’m ready to glamourize the hell out of myself. 

Sincerely,

Your next best employee

Even though the person reading this is (probably) not an exec from Glamour, I hope you see the passion for my potential dream job.

And hey, maybe forward it to 1 World Trade Center, New York, NY 10007, USA… that’d be great. 

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