A sense that Style might not be the best name for this newspaper apparently is at least half as old as the magazine. This story is one of at least two admissions during the past 30 years that our name can be, well, embarrassing:
Nov. 11, 1997
OK, let's settle it once and for all. Let's talk about the one thing we at Style Weekly are truly sensitive about — our name.
And you realize it's dumb the minute you have to tell someone from out of town — someone who knows nothing of the publication — where you work.
"Style Weekly," you say.
"Is that a fashion magazine?" you'll inevitably hear.
"What's that, like one of those shoppers?"
Or, heaven forbid ...
"Is that a section of the newspaper?" (Ouch.)
It's true, we are saddled with a pitiful name, born when the paper was a cultural guide to Richmond's West End and was blowing the lid off the fitness craze. It was a time when Donna Mills' eye shadow could qualify for its own ZIP code and TV viewers drooled over a world we'd never belong in by watching "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" (long before we took to looking down on a world we wouldn't be caught dead in on "Cops").
In 1983, Style fit.
But what does it say about us in 1997?
Not much, I'd say.