60 Years of Covering Washington

Magazine covers are our bright and inviting front porch, our flirty gaze from across the room, our oversize inflatable arms flapping in a windblown used-car lot. They’re the original clickbait, explicitly conceived and shamelessly designed to get you, the brilliant potential Washingtonian reader, to buy this magazine. Pretty please?

We’ve been covering Washington for 60 years. Over that time, our covers have served as something of a cultural mirror—reflecting our region’s hopes (new Presidents, finding love) and fears (ongoing crime, losing hair), our desires (sex, cheap eats) and discontents (teen sex, expensive divorces), our anxieties (money) and obsessions (also money).

Along the way, we’ve picked the area’s very best restaurants, celebrated its top doctors, and sussed out its hidden gems. We’ve taught you how to complain (to get better service), how to make a million (twice!), and how to get jewelry from men (¯\_(ツ)_/¯). Oh, and we’ve also ranked Washington’s “biggest male chauvinist pigs”—you’re welcome—while boldly asking the question no one else would: Can a Bald Man Be Elected President?

As we celebrate our anniversary, here’s a look back at some of our weirdest, wildest, most memorable covers—and the recurring themes that tie them together.

Subtext is for Cowards

When the image says it all

Thinking. Who has time for it? These covers save you the trouble. Turns out a picture really is worth a thousand words—so long as the picture features a pig-head mask, an attorney prepped for a firing squad, or an entire cereal bowl full of drugs. You wanna contemplate visual nuance? Go to the National Gallery!

Famous Faces

Not all of our celebrities work in national politics.

Leafing through Washingtonian’s archives can feel like meandering down the Hollywood Walk of Fame—just swap showbiz stars for award-winning chefs, acclaimed sports figures, beloved news anchors, and (deep cut) Howard Stern. Through their talents and tribulations, these local luminaries became part of our city’s pulse—and lore.

Who Wants to be a Millionaire?

We do! But at what cost?

We stress if we have too little. Worry if we have too much. Want it, need it, chase it, celebrate it—and then ask if maybe, just maybe, it’s not worth all the trouble. Money is never far from the hearts and minds of Washingtonians, and our feelings about the almighty dollar have been consistently inconsistent.

Thirsty Washingtonian

Our horniest covers. Awooga!

Typically, our covers don’t show much skin. It’s not that we’re prudish–we just like to leave something to your imagination. But that hasn’t always been the case. Every now and then, we’re not above using sex to sell.

States of Disunion

Love and marriage and dueling pistols.

Given our ongoing obsessions with sex and money, is it any wonder we’ve also devoted multiple covers to divorce? Sure, we’ve occasionally tried to help readers remain blissfully partnered–all the way to the afterlife, in fact (see below left)–but most of our attention, alas, has been devoted to splitsville.

Kids These Days

Checking in on our wayward youth

Here’s how it works. You’re young, rebellious, awash in hormones, and sneaking out to parties–then, before you know it, you’re older and panicking that your children are doing the same, only now everything’s different and more terrifying, because, um, Snapchat or something. Like time itself, generational fretting is a flat circle.

At Your Service

We’ve always had your back–and then some

As a city magazine, our core mission is to help you squeeze every last drop of self-actualization out of the place we all call home–whether you’re planning a weekend getaway or searching for a reputable dentist. Over the years, those marching orders have led us to Washington’s finest, and also down some roads less traveled.

Washingtonian Regrets

What were we thinking?

Sure, a lot has changed in Washington since 1965. But some things have always been in questionable taste—say, repeatedly using ice-cream cones as a visual metaphor for race relations or flippantly asking feminists what they’re whining about this time (in 1973, it was probably the right to open a credit-card account). Looking back, these cringe-worthy covers are best remembered as teachable moments, with the lesson being: A thousand times no.