Three years ago, as the ink was drying on the contract that brought ELLE to Hearst, I sent David Granger, the editor in chief of Esquire (also owned by Hearst), an e-mail saying that our magazines should date. It was a long courtship, but the fruits of the flirtation—a content swap in which the editors of ELLE try to explain the female condition to men and Esquire editors attempt to do the converse for us—has finally arrived. Call it fraternal twins of different mothers, to keep torturing the metaphor.
I've known Granger since we were both young editors in our twenties, trying to make our way in New York and, we hoped, some kind of impact. David turned out to be a supereditor, much lauded for the highly ambitious (and…
