Even in the age of smartphones and streaming, there’s a special charm to flipping through a paper that’s truly one‑of‑a‑kind. These ten cool magazines from days gone by proved that bold ideas, daring visuals, and unapologetic content can still capture imaginations long after the ink has dried.
Why These Cool Magazines Still Captivate Readers
10 Eros
In 1962, publisher Ralph Ginzburg launched Eros, an erotic periodical that tackled everything from contraception to brothels. He mailed a provocative “pornographic” flyer to three million affluent, educated Americans, confident they’d love his bold take on love and sex.
The response was anything but flattering—disgusted letters flooded in, filling sixteen pages of the second issue. Still, Ginzburg persisted, offering high‑quality writing, experimental layouts, and striking photographs.
The third issue even featured previously suppressed nude photos of Marilyn Monroe, each marked with bright orange splotches. Ginzburg claimed those marks were Monroe’s own corrections, not printing errors.
Legal and financial troubles dogged the magazine from the start. The controversial fourth issue showed an African‑American man embracing a European‑American woman, sparking further outrage.
After only four issues, Eros folded. Ginzburg was eventually prosecuted—not for the erotic content, but for “prurient and pandering” mail advertising, landing him behind bars.
9 WET
Leonard Koren’s WET was billed as a “gourmet bathing” magazine, a phrase no one—least of all Koren—really understood. In his book Making WET: The Magazine of Gourmet Bathing, he explained the concept as delivering the unexpected, tinged with absurdity, like how‑to‑dress for the apocalypse or cooking fish in a dishwasher.
After studying architecture and finding it too cold‑hearted, Koren turned his camera on people in bizarre bathing scenarios. He famously threw a post‑shoot party for his unpaid models in an old Russian‑Jewish bathhouse, and the revelry sparked the birth of the magazine.
From 1976 to 1981, WET attracted a roster of illustrators, photographers, writers, and designers, quickly becoming a cult favorite for its off‑beat, visually rich content.
8 F—k You: A Magazine Of The Arts
Ed Sanders kicked off F—k You in 1962, a poetry zine that captured New York City’s underground pulse. His mantra—“I’ll print anything”—was more than a slogan; it was a promise. The first runs were produced on a Speed‑o‑Print, later on an A.B. Dick stencil duplicator, with roughly 500 copies per issue.
The magazine survived 13 issues before folding in 1965. Sanders announced the venture over drinks, despite skeptical friends, and managed to get the inaugural issue out in a week. He handed out copies for free, even sending them to icons like Picasso, Allen Ginsberg, and Fidel Castro.
The notorious “Mad Motherf—ker Issue” (issue 3) featured W.H. Auden’s provocative poem “The Platonic Blow, by Miss Oral,” famously dubbed the “blowjob poem.”
7 Spy
Spy blended satire with serious investigative journalism from 1986 to 1998. Founded by veteran New York editors Graydon Carter and Kurt Andersen, the magazine didn’t shy away from cutting blows.
In 1988 it labeled Donald Trump “a short‑fingered vulgarian.” Trump retaliated by sending a gilded‑hand copy of The Art of the Deal, cheekily warning, “If you hit me, I will hit you back 100 times harder.”
Two years later, Spy mailed $1.11 checks to wealthy celebs to see who’d cash them—Rupert Murdoch did. In 1992, the cover boasted “1,000 Reasons Not to Vote for George Bush. No. 1—He Cheats On His Wife.”
The staff also phoned 20 freshman House members, pretending to host a New York radio talk show, and asked absurd questions about the fictitious nation of Freedonia. Politicians, none the wiser, gave earnest answers; Representative Steve Buyer even compared Freedonia to the Middle East.
6 OZ
OZ began in Australia in 1963 as a tongue‑in‑cheek parody published by three university students on April Fools’ Day. Its debut front page hoaxed readers with a story about the Sydney Harbour Bridge collapsing.
The early issues tackled abortion, the history of chastity belts, and soon ventured into more controversial territory—homosexuality, police brutality, and other taboos. Editors eventually faced obscenity charges.
The British incarnation, launched in 1967, turned psychedelic. Its staff endured fines, deportations, and prison sentences of nine to fifteen months (later overturned on appeal). The notorious issue that led to prosecution was filled with teen‑generated content on sexual freedom, hypocrisy, drug use, and examinations. Central evidence? Two cartoons depicting Rupert Bear sexually assaulting an unconscious female.
5 Splosh!
Founded in 1989 by Clive Harris (who wrote under the pseudonym Bill Shipton), Splosh! celebrated the messy side of fetish culture. Its pages showcased women drenched in everything from shower water while clothed to swimming in baked beans, even staging pudding‑fight extravaganzas.
Shipton described sploshing as a child‑like, innocent way to misbehave for a few hours. Anything could be used—except motor oil and oil‑based paint. His partner Hayley recalled her first “messy situation” involved sitting on a cake.
The name Splosh! was chosen for its playful, wet‑and‑messy vibe. The magazine produced forty issues before closing its doors in 2001.
4 Police Gazette
Launched in 1845, The National Police Gazette changed hands several times before Irish immigrant Richard Kyle Fox turned it into a bachelor’s bible. Fox’s signature pink paper made the magazine instantly recognizable.
Its eclectic mix featured sports, lurid crime stories—especially love‑triangle murders—odd competitions like bridge jumping, and pin‑up‑style photos of scantily clad women. A regular “Tonsorialists of the Week” spotlight highlighted barbers who subscribed, cementing its reputation as the “barbershop bible.”
Jokes like “Did you read The National Police Gazette?” “No, I shave myself.” circulated among readers. As rivals copied its unique features, the Gazette’s readership dwindled, and it ceased publication in the 1970s.
3 Sexology
From 1933 until the late 1960s, Hugo Gernsback’s Sexology rode the wave of sexual curiosity. Its tagline morphed constantly—“The Magazine of Sex Choice,” “Authoritative Guide to Sex Education,” “Sex Science Illustrated”—reflecting its ambition to demystify intimacy.
At its peak, the magazine boasted a circulation of 200,000, publishing pieces like “The Problem of Prison Sex,” “Sex Invaders in Flying Saucers—Some Incredible Tales,” and “How It Feels to Be a Virgin.”
Later owners sold the title, and by 1983 it folded, citing waning popularity. By then, the once‑novel information was readily available in daily newspapers, and the scientific‑sounding title failed to attract an audience craving more entertaining content.
2 Gandalf’s Garden
Created in the late 1960s by Muz Murray, founder of a mystical London community, Gandalf’s Garden explored esoteric subjects—from Aleister Crowley to the Hare Krishna movement. Its most bizarre article warned readers about trepanning—drilling holes in the skull—while urging them to try yoga instead.
Operating as part of the underground press, the magazine eschewed the typical black‑and‑white format, opting for peach or light‑blue sheets that rotated throughout each issue.
Only six issues saw the light of day before the flower‑power era faded, taking Gandalf’s Garden with it.
1 Screw
Al Goldstein’s Screw, launched in 1968, shattered the veneer that most adult magazines tried to maintain. Its manifesto promised never to ink out a pubic hair or chalk out an organ. Unsurprisingly, Goldstein faced 19 obscenity arrests in the first three years, yet he remained unflinching.
Goldstein said the publication stemmed from his frustration with bland sex literature and his desire to mirror his own sexual appetite. He used the platform to lambaste religious leaders and politicians, calling out the hypocrisy of a government that justified war while imprisoning erotic publishers.
Interest from authorities waned over time, readership declined, and Screw finally folded in 2003, with Goldstein filing for bankruptcy.