If you know anything about mag nation by now, you will undoubtedly know that we adore Frankie.

Frankie is the original thinking gal’s guide to everything that’s good in fashion, music, craft and practically anything else for that matter. You know a magazine has made an impact when it becomes part of common parlance…”that is just so Frankie” now holds meaning for a very broad demographic.

Far and away one of our biggest sellers, we’ll often get mums coming in to buy a copy for their daughters as well as one for themselves (not to mention the odd male fan!) Harking back to the glory days of the sadly, long-defunct Sassy magazine, Frankie’s broad ranging appeal stems from the fact that it’s not afraid to be a unique and inspirational voice.

So, for this edition of ‘My Top 5 Mags’, we’re absolutely chuffed to bring you Frankie’s editor, Jo Walker to tell you a little bit about some of her favourite magazines…

1. Bust Magazine

This is the first magazine I ever read that I felt truly ‘got’ me. Spawned in the heady, riot grrrl days of 1993, it’s full of rad music interviews, craft, indie-cool fashion and homewares, celebrities you can actually look up to (they were heading up the Tina Fey fan club long before you or I had ever heard of her) and smart-arse opinion pieces. Basically it made feminism cool again.

Bust is clever, cute, and always a bit grungy around the edges. I think of it like the wise older sister I never had who was into L7 and Bikini Kill in the ‘90s, wears retro glasses with op shop shirts, and still goes to gigs every Friday night while hubby sits at home with their adorable three-year-old called Nugget, or something equally rock ‘n’ roll.

The founding editor, Debbie Stoller, went on to launch the Stitch ‘n Bitch movement with books of the same name and practically created nu-craft. She is basically my publishing idol. Also, I wish I could crochet as well as her.

2. Adbusters

Even though I’m sure founder Kalle Lasn would hate to be lauded by a sell-out, corporate-media running dog stooge like myself, I admire the hell out of him and his mag. Alongside ‘No Logo’, Culture Jamming was practically my bible at uni and Adbusters continues the tradition of playful political subversion he started 20 years ago.

On first flick it’s the ‘subvertisements’ that get you (regular ads creatively hacked by activists and design nerds), but I also love the first-person stories from little edges of the world I know I’ll never travel to, the feisty research pieces on geopolitics, social democracy and environmentalism, and the expert panellists they get in to discuss their take on the state of the world.

The only trick is managing to read it while sipping on a Diet Coke (bad multinational!), sitting on your IKEA sofa (soulless, big-box capitalists!) or waiting in line at Coles (mega retailers killing small business!)

Aside from that, Adbusters is basically the Banksy of magazines. I hope it takes over the world.

3. Love

Here’s another editor whose career I’d like to steal. Katie Grand used to be fashion director at the sadly missed The Face magazine (I don’t think I’m talking out of turn when I call it THE best magazine of all time) and then editor-in-chief at their style spinoff, POP. The fact that she’s married to one of the guys from Pulp also makes me envy her enormously.

So when I heard she was launching a new title, I knew even before I saw it that I’d be in love. And then I saw it. The first issue. Beth Ditto. In the nud. Looking saucy as hot tamales. Swoon.

But wait, there’s more! Inside one of the most cracking covers I’ve ever seen was a labour of, well, love. Reading every little interview and tidbit, you can tell that every single person/style/designer/celebrity/random mime in there (yes, they did a fashion shoot with the street performers who hung out the front of their office) is truly loved and enthused over by Katie and her staff. It’s not cool for the sake of it; it’s not sneering down from some haute couture ivory castle. It just can’t help being awesome.

4. Tokion

Dare I admit that I first came across this gem in a sharehouse toilet? Yes I dare. And I’ll also say that it makes bloody good bathroom reading material.

Here’s another mag that treads the fine line between being cool and being too-cool-for-school. Between being smart and being a smarty pants. They manage to cover cutting edge art, fashion, design, culture and rock ‘n’ roll without the sneering, ‘we’re better than you’ vibe of an NME or a Vice. And I love them for it. Let’s face it – these days, who can deal with the angst?

Also, unlike a lot of mags these days (and especially good if you’re planning on taking it to the smallest room in the house), Tokion is a BIG read. BIG interviews. BIG features. Even though I love design (and this mag is ace at that as well), I am, not surprisingly, a word person, so this is a big plus for me. They don’t scrimp on text. No sirree.

Best story ever: when they smuggled a journo into North Korea pretending he was a movie reviewer attending the Pyongyang Film Festival. Great pictures. Great insight into the country. Great piss-taking of Kim Jong-Il.

Two thumbs up.

5. Vanity Fair

Alongside Newsweek and Time, this is my all-star, number-one-with-a-bullet airport and plane magazine. Light and fluffy enough for early morning flights, but with enough substance to get you through an unexpected layover and/or trip from hell.

Admittedly I could do without the Tatler-esque NYC high-society hobnobbing they’re always banging on about, but I suppose that in itself provides some Gossip Girly type escapism at 5am while you’re sitting on a tarmac waiting forever for ‘the last pieces of luggage to be loaded’.

Just like Tokion they love a BIG, long-play profile piece. And they’re always intriguing. Just picking up the nearest issue I can reach in my bookshelf, they’ve covered Obama, Spinal Tap, Peter Jackson and Marlene Dietrich. What’s not to love about that?

The other big reason to pick up VF is the writing of one of my personal journalism gods: Christopher Hitchens. Sure he went a bit crazily right-wing during the whole Iraq War thing, but that doesn’t stop his first-person account of learning to run on a treadmill any less hilarious. Devestatingly articulate fat man with unconvincing combover trying to be The Biggest Loser? Surely that in itself is worth the price of admission.