My new Texture app is helping me kick a decades-old magazine-hoarding habit. (Hubby = V v happy.)

A few of my "Favorites," in swiping proximity to each other.
A few of my “Favorites,” in swiping proximity to each other.

Have any of you fellow culture vultures been watching the second season of Fargo, per chance? Unspeakably good. And free on-demand, too, because it’s on FX.

Sidebar: Wait – FX is free, right? I hope so. I don’t want to lead you lovely Momoverettes down the garden path to financial ruin here. Soooo not my jam…

Anyhoo, Kirsten Dunst is killing it as Peggy Blumquist, and not solely because she literally killed it as Peggy Blumquist. (By running over some poor sap with her big ol’ boat of a car. Gruesome.)

No, La Dunst is nailing her portrayal because of the entire kit and caboodle she’s bringing to the equation: Her precision 70s lewk (high-waisted flares, crocheted vests, feathered Farrah hair, jaunty Faye-Dunaway-in-Bonnie-&-Clyde berets), her accent (a thick Minnesota brogue riddled with upspeak), her beautician day job, her unwavering belief that costly self-help seminars will allow her to “actualize” herself.

But what I love most about Peg is her black belt magazine-hoarding.

Every flat surface of her home – kitchen chairs, coffee tables, countertops – is piled sky-high with issues. Down in her basement, there are veritable mountains of magazines, all stacked on wobbly shelving units that look like they’ll give way at the slightest gust.

Asked why she feels compelled to not only spend her hard-earned beautician’s bucks on all these glossies, but to keep ’em around at fire-hazard levels, Peg gives the oldest excuse in the world, one I myself have used on countless occasions: “I need to stay up on all the latest trends.”

Ever since I was knee-high to a grasshopper (translation: probably around 12 or 13), I’ve been a complete and utter magazine junkie. I shudder to think how much moolah I’ve spent on them, especially when I know that I’ve only ever truly, thoroughly read a tiny fraction. My core magazine m.o. is to plunk down the cash, flip through it quickly reading maybe one story, and then let it take up space in my life for eons.

Yes, I’m in the magazine business. It’s my job – even as print publications go by way of the dinosaur – to know what’s going on in that world.

But now, thanks to an uh-mazing new app called Texture, I’m entering the 21st century and going fully digital.

I think there have been a few other attempts at apps like this, but the earlier incarnations were ultra-glitchy.

As far as I can tell – I’m nearing the end of a 30-day premium free trial – Texture is pretty much a glitch-free zone.

I’ve been reading SO much more since I got it, and feel more “up on the latest trends” than I have been in a very long time.

But the best part? No stacks of mags secretly stashed all over my home, no Hubby grousing at me, no guilt over money spent on products that merely collects dust.

I’ll still buy my precious Porter because it isn’t available on Texture (yet). And I’m sure my beloved British Vogue when I spot it at airports. (I’ve never seen it down here in FLA.)

But my days of Peggy Blumquist-style hoarding? They’re gone, baby. Gone.