stages. In 1979, when he was 12, his family
fled revolution-torn Iran, resettling on
Long Island. After graduating from New
York University and launching a gay
weekly, QW, he readily earned a reputa-
tion as an “editorial boy wonder” (per the
New York Observer), serving as deputy
editor of New York magazine; editorial di-
rector of Talk, the short-lived glossy cre-
ated by Tina Brown; and founding editor
of Radar, a dishy magazine and website
that tracked the zeitgeist of the aughts
with stories on Damien Hirst and “toxic
bachelors.” Somewhere along the way,
Roshan, like Brown, became a story him-
self, his comings and goings clocked in
gossip columns such as Page Six.
In 2008 — after a rocky publishing his-
tory and a succession of volatile owners in-
cluding Jeffrey Epstein — Radar folded.
Roshan, who said at lunch that he had re-
cently fielded “a million calls” from report-
ers regarding his ties to Epstein, believes
that early reports of the financier’s sexual
proclivities prompted Epstein’s co-in-
vestor, Mort Zuckerman, to pull his sup-
port from Radar in 2005. He started to de-
scribe a visit to Epstein’s “dark and surre-
al” townhouse on the Upper East Side.
But Spencer, the Mayfair’s catering man-
ager, had arrived to take us on a less
spooky tour.
We rode an elevator to the second floor
to view the hotel’s art gallery, curated by
the graffiti artist RISK, and to the third
floor to see the ballroom, a soaring space
with exposed bricks and beams. Waiting
for the down elevator, we watched another
car disgorge a guy in a mouth mask and
gangsta wear and two women sporting
thigh-length platinum wigs, schoolgirl
kilts and platform boots. “Anime Expo,”
Spencer explained. “They’re back from
the convention center.”
“Fringe youth culture!” Roshan ex-
claimed. “My thing!”
He wasn’t kidding. Ten minutes and a
short Uber ride later, we were standing
outside the glass-and-steel Los Angeles
Convention Center Annex surrounded by
hundreds of pointy-eared Pikachu, top-
hatted steampunks and pink-haired prin-
cover page for the August issue of Los An-
geles from his leather office bag. In keep-
ing with the magazine’s long tradition of
“Best of ” coverage, it was a “Best of L.A.”
issue — but instead of an obvious image of
a billboard or a marquee, the cover fea-
tured a whimsical cartoon by the hus-
band-and-wife team of artists known as
DabsMyla, inspired by one of its murals
downtown. It reflects Roshan’s resolve “to
keep what Los Angeles was — where to go,
what to eat — but also to be more topical
and newsy and have energy and a voice.”
“I hate the word buzz,” he elaborated,
“but the magazine needed buzz.” In addi-
tion to tips on the best workout under 30
minutes and the best nontoxic nail salon,
the August issue contained a scrappy
piece on Los Angeles County Sheriff Alex
Villanueva. July’s cover story, a Q&A with
actress Louise Linton, the deeply contro-
versial wife of Treasury Secretary Steven
Mnuchin, was so buzzy it earned Roshan a
few minutes on CNN. September features
a lacerating account of Donald Trump’s
clumsy efforts to become a Hollywood
macher. (The cover line: “The Biggest
Loser.”)
It was not hard to generate heat,
Roshan said, covering the new cultural
capital of the country: “It’s undeniable
that over the last decade, L.A., fashion-
wise, politically for sure, the arts commu-
nity — all this stuff that was East Coast-
centric has gravitated west.”
Roshan himself gravitated west in
cesses. (Novelist Bret Easton Ellis, a
friend of Roshan’s since the 1990s, said
such subcultural detours were classic
Roshan: “A few years back we were going
out to dinner, but Maer wanted to meet at
the Scientology center beforehand, take a
little tour and have Scientology people at-
tach E-meters to us.”)
“Oh, look at this guy! Hey, can I take
your picture?” Roshan, hobbled by a bad
back, made his way over to a gold-armored
warrior, who struck a not very fierce pose.
He returned and lit a Marlboro Light. “I
should call our fashion editor and have her
come down and shoot next week’s style
page.”
An uncostumed man with a pair of
headphones wrapped around his neck
overheard Roshan and struck up a con-
versation. He was a video artist, recording
sound for a film on anime. “Maybe we can
use some of that for our website,” Roshan
said, fishing a business card from his bag.
When the video artist went off to capture
more sound, Roshan got out his phone
and texted someone. “Oh, yeah,” he said
under his breath. “We’re already doing an
anime story.”
No matter. Another half-hour at Anime
Expo would inspire potential pieces on
couples who meet at conventions, Comp-
ton Pride (an event held the same week-
end) and the backlash against influencers
(don’t ask, something to do with Hello
Kitty).
Magazine changes
Los Angeles is the oldest independ-
ently published city magazine in the coun-
try. It was founded by a UCLA undergrad-
uate and an ad executive in 1961 and soon
boasted local contributors like Ray Brad-
bury and Joseph Wambaugh. The publi-
cation pioneered the use of celebrity cov-
ers as well as that city-magazine staple,
the service issue (“Top Doctors,” “52
Great Weekends”). After ABC bought it in
1977, issues swelled to the size of phone
books.
While other local titles came and went
— remember Buzz? New West? — Los An-
geles prevailed. In 2000 the Walt Disney
Co. (which had acquired ABC) sold the
magazine to Emmis Communications for
a whopping $30 million. But like most
print publications, it has struggled for ad
revenue in recent years. In 2017 Emmis un-
loaded the title along with three other
magazines for $6.5 million. The buyer, De-
troit-based Hour Media Group, promptly
laid off more than a half-dozen staffers. In
terms of its heft, Los Angeles today more
closely resembles an alumni quarterly
than a phone book.
The first thing you notice about the
magazine’s headquarters, in a sleek sky-
scraper designed by William L. Pereira &
Associates and located across Wilshire
Boulevard from LACMA, is how quiet they
are. A honeycomb of empty cubicles
stretches across the 10th floor. Roshan’s
full-time editorial staff has been whittled
to eight people.
He holds two staff meetings a week,
one for the magazine and one for the web-
site, lamag.com. At a recent website meet-
ing, the conference room looked pretty
full, but interns and freelancers made up
much of the head count. Roshan solicited
story ideas from everyone in the room, re-
sponding to unpaid summer interns and
seasoned journos like “the Maerettes”
(style writers Merle Ginsberg and Susan
Campos) with equal fervor.
Among the pitches:
8 How Uber drivers get “deactivated.”
8 The new, improved protective netting
at Dodger Stadium. (Roshan suggested a
“history of head hits” at the ballpark.).
8 Robot employees in L.A. restaurants
and bars.
8 The cancellation of a Pete Buttigieg
fundraiser at Ryan Murphy’s house.
The last idea was Roshan’s. “The mag-
azine shied away from political content
before,” he said back in his office, a large
corner suite with presumably inspiring
views of LACMA and, behind scaffolding,
the new Academy Museum of Motion Pic-
tures. “They shied away from industry
content too, I guess because they thought
Hollywood was covered by other people.
But we should be covering institutions
MAER ROSHAN’SLos Angeles magazine doesn’t shy from politics, with recent stories about Sheriff Alex Villanueva and Trump’s time in Hollywood.
Photographs byMariah TaugerLos Angeles Times
L.A. editor makes a splash
‘It is what it is. People
can just go out and have
a platform now with
videos and podcasts.’
—MAERROSHAN,
of today’s challenging media landscape, particularly for print
THE STORYideas fly during staff meetings for Los Angeles magazine and its website. Roshan welcomes pitches from interns and veteran journos alike.
[Roshan,from F1]
[SeeRoshan,F7]
F6 LATIMES.COM
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