The only magazine I collected was Heavy Metal:
I had a neighbor growing up who ran a small shop called the magazine rack downtown. What made this place special was that he practically hoarded magazines from when his dad ran the place, so you could go there to find just about anything you were looking for. The man was the major contributor to my skin bin. But me and my gf would lie in my backyard in the shade and thumb through those pages, with a soda and a snack. Had to hide the less tame covered ones from my mom, but I found the two boxes of the older ones, and added them to my shelf with the ones I had up to 2018 when they stopped printing.
Saturday me and my wife decided to relive those halcyon days by sitting on the patio reliving those days. It was just about the only thing we could do back in the day with my mother who always had something to do in the kitchen, whose window had a clear view of the entire back yard.
My daughter picked up a copy I had just read and was all confused as to what it was about. I facepalmed so hard that I swear my ancestors had red marks on their faces.
"Baby girl, there was no point to the magazine, it was basically comics, stories and good art."
"Its so old."
"Go to your room."