Blueprint vs Domino

Names of children featured in the August issues:

Blueprint
Stella Lou
Sasha
Edie
Sammy
Daisy

Domino
Oliver
Trinity

Much like the magazine itself, Blueprint's names are safely bridge-and-tunnel: from the pull-out handbook on surefire grilling to the tennis racket purchasing guide, this is a magazine for blonde-highlighted, Hoboken-dwelling 23-year-olds who spend their summer shares in the Hamptons squinting at bond traders named Judson. I came, I saw, I decamped for New Jersey, had two kids, and named them “Daisy” and “Sammy.”

The names arise from some pastoral fantasy, evoking that much-heard-of and n’er experienced simpler time. Imagine a picnic: mom in a sundress, the kids pressed and polite, dad doling out potato salad and sliced meats. But dad’s fantazing about finger-banging that new analyst, the kids know they only got into the second-best school in Cherry Hill, and mom is thinking “I told you no MAYONNAISE in these sandwiches!”

Domino, however, seems purposefully to scrub the existence of children from its pages. An article on redecorating maternity-wear guru Liz Lange’s Manhattan rental features none of her children; you can sense their presence off the edge of the page, the photo director chanting "To the left...to the left...to the left" until they're safely out of the frame.

Oliver and Trinity are the two teenage sons of some designer. They seem like nice enough kids; they have a purpose-built room to play their guitars. Probably they'll experiment a bit with drugs, make some student films at Wesleyan. They'll buy houses near the beach in Southern California, with expensive light fixtures and bespoke stationery. One of them will be gay, the other will at least wonder.

All in all, Cat, it seems like we're Domino girls. What are your thoughts?