I always leaf through Katei Gaho in my dentist's waiting room. In fact, it's the only place I've ever had a chance to peruse it. Printed on the heaviest glossy paper money can buy, the magazine is more notable for its heft than its content, which is beautifully photographed clothing and household goods for the discriminating okusan. The reason I never see it anywhere else is because the kind of women it targets -- rich Japanese wives with huge houses and refined tastes -- are the kind of women I don't know.
The species of catalog magazine that Katei Gaho epitomizes may not be exclusive to Japan, but it's certainly been perfected here. The high-grade paper and high-rent photographers make these publications expensive propositions, but the fact that only a few people actually buy them isn't as much of a problem as it sounds. Japanese advertisers, especially those who deal in image-intensive products like fashion and brand accessories, are more concerned with how they are perceived than with how many people are perceiving them. The paper stock is the whole point.
But there are only so many advertisers like that to go around, and as the number of these door-stop publications proliferated they had to find ways of distinguishing themselves from one another. Most target the well-to-do, and almost all set their sights on women. All roads, it would seem, lead back to Katei Gaho.