Today it’s turn for the Entertaiment Weekly issue of March 25 2005. That day there was 5 different covers featuring each of the housewives and, of course, Nicollette had her own.

I’m only typing the main article and Nicollette/Edie related things. But you can see the full scans here.

SECRETS & WIFE
Why we can’t stop talking about the Desperate women (and men) of Wisteria Lane.

If the debut of Sex and the City represented the brazen freedom women were feeling as they boozed, screwed, and made mounds of cash in the pre-bust late ’90s, Desperate Housewives marks the aftermath. Women are heading to the suburbs, choosing to stay home with the kids – and are incredibly self-aware about all the implications that follow. Housewives brilliantly exploits these insecurities: The suicide of neighbor Mary Alice boasts an uneasy Sylvia Path resonance; domestic items like measuring cups and knitting needles become foreboding weapons of mass destruction. Lynette’s (Felicity Huffman) addiction to her sons’ ADD medicine channels both the latest issue of O and a 1950s Redbook article about “mother’s little helpers.” Bree (Marcia Cross), the ultimate Housewife, is a women whose pearls and welltended garden make her as much a mid-century homemaker as a modern one. (In this case, keeping the home tidy means covering up her son’s hit-and-run DUI). With its picket fences and pastel houses, Wisteria Lane even resembles one of those conformist suburbs mocked in everything from American Beauty to The Stepford Wives. Then again, the neighborhood also looks a hell of a lot like our current landsapce, where we buy SUVs in the same creamy-dreamy colors as that KitchenAid mixer that’s basically a display piece.

But as American Beauty’s tagline advised, look closer. There’s a creepier undertow at work. Just as Sex and the City teased women over fears they’d never find Mr. Right, Housewives fuels all their doubts about post-marriage unworthiness. Heading up a slew of shows – from Supernanny to Wife Swap – that showcase women missing the mark at home, Housewives taps into a bubbling strain of female anxiety. Lynette can’t control her nast little brood; Bree can’t hold on to her husband. Teri Hatcher’s Susan refuses to mother her child, instead treating her like a best buddy, or worse, her mommy. (Of course, the poor woman needs someone to look after her, considering her many tumbles and pratfalls.)

Naturally, Housewives wouldn’t have its rabid following (much of it make) if it weren’t put together in a such clever, sometimes infuriating way. Mystery lovers assemble the Twin Peaks-esque pieces like a patchwork quilt: a baby blanket, a drug-trafficking plumber, a sociopathic father-son team. Soap fans indulge in the extracurricular sex and nasty marital spats. The Housewives provide endless arguments: Should you chat with your daughter about your sex life? Can you force a child to feel compassion? Is it selfish to not want kids? When so much TV is forgotten the moment you turn it off, Housewives is the ultimate in interactive television. Love it or hate it, you can’t help but feel something.

EDIE:
The local slut is a time-honored TV tradition (think Heather Locklear in Dynasty or… Heather Locklear in Melrose Place) and an amusing – but crucial – foil to her righteous TV counterparts. And with the gusto of Heather the Great, Nicollette Sheridan has made illreputed Edie the most memorable antiheroine in a decade. The only thing that trumps her icy stares and that I’m-rubber-and-you’re-glue attitude is her bimbastic wardrobe, which suggests an ethos so espectacularly liberated it falls somewhere between feminist and hair-metal groupie on the political spectrum.

Edie is delivered with such aplomb (aye, no finer a mechanical-bull straddler there ever was), we’re quick to forget that this hard-bodied minx is far less culpable than those who snap-judge her: “accidental” arsonist Susan; statutory rapist Gabrielle; husband torturer Bree; and ex-junkie Lynette. Our only complaint? Edie’s frequent absence from episodes. But her periodic, scene-grabbing moments make us all the more fond of her.

In her own words: “The psychological warfare is amusing,” says Sheridan. “Edie is a force to be reckoned with. She is extremely quick-witted, bright, and an unusually honest woman. She goes after what she wants and makes no apologies for who she is.”
What we want for Edie: When Susan copped to torching Edie’s home, Edie made a surprising offer: She’ll keep her mom if she can join in on poker nights. Let’s hope she double-deals with some juicy blackmail.
What we don’t: Don’t let Edie’s let’s-be-friends plea be sincere. We don’t need another Susan.