Monocle Magazine is sort of like a cross between "The Economist" and "Rolling Stone." It's an anomaly in the print world. Each issue costs $10 (there are 10 per year) but somehow a year-long subscription costs $150. I first heard of it when snobbish hip hop star Lupe Fiasco name-dropped the title in a song last year (alongside Goyard luggage and Head Porter wallets).

Screen shot of a typical Monocle web video - interview with the Prime Minister of Estonia

As one might expect, the magazine is printed on what the NY Times calls "a slab of printed dark Belgian chocolate." You can only imagine the heavy, glossy stock practically dripping with ink.

Unlike a typical young magazine Monocle has direct relationships with advertisers who, in many ways, behave like patrons to the arts as much as they are business partners. Rosetta Stone, Absolut Vodka and the Government of Taiwan all happily offer their support.

The editorial direction of Monocle is summarized nicely by the Times "Monocle renders the world as a giant boutique, full of hand-crafted coffee, hand-built bikes and an endless array of handsome destinations full of shiny, happy people who try to keep their carbon footprints to a minimum if you don t count all the jetting around."

In addition to coverage of the material sides of life, Monocle tends to focus much of its energy on foreign affairs. The magazine debuted with articles about the Japanese maritime self-defense force and Chinese investment in Africa.

Finally, Monocle creates its own products from time to time. In the last couple years enough of these products have surfaced (everything from luggage to bicycles, watches to kitchen tables) that brick-and-mortar retail stores bearing the Monocle name have popped up in London, Los Angeles and Spain.

To be fair, Monocle is not for everyone. It's limited distribution and high sticker price are just some of the many barriers to entry. Regardless, the magazine has set a new precedent for success in a dying industry.