Hello friends,
I hope you enjoyed last week’s interview with Lina Sun Park. Back to boring ol’ me for a bit.
Two Saturdays ago, a dear friend blessed me with a ticket to go see Olivia Rodrigo and the Breeders. Before heading uptown for the show, I lurked around the LES and ended up posted outside Colbo where a little day party was happening, complete with seemingly endless pours of wine and incredible curry tacos. The people watching on that block was great supporting evidence for that menswear article. As the anonymous author of that piece wisely notes, “Wearing an expensive jacket has never been interesting in itself.”
The Breeders opening for Olivia Rodrigo was simply too good to be true and made me kick myself for not making an effort to catch their Last Splash reunion tour. I spied Jenn down on the floor where she was reporting on the iconic billing and we managed to exchange distant waves. In between sets I took a lap around MSG. The Scene Report: silver sequined skirts that gave me flashbacks to a traumatizing adolescent talent show dance to *NSYNC’s “Pop” involving matching lime green camisoles from Target and stretchy pants; countless ribbons and bows; a dad wearing a shirt that said “forced to be here”…like, okay, calm down, sir.
When I returned to my seat, the woman next to me who was there with her daughters and some other women in the, let’s say 50-60 range, started talking to me, asking if I like the Breeders, presumably because I was clearly losing my mind during “I Just Want To Get Along.” Turns out she’s an old family friend of the Deals from Ohio, and oh, wouldn’t you know it, Kelley is going to come sit with us to watch Olivia, and oh here she is, let me introduce you. And there I was, “a big fan,” offering an awkward wave to Kelley Deal.
Olivia…Olivia! Look, I love Olivia Rodrigo, I’m not ashamed to admit that she’s my most-played artist every year. I went to see her perform at Radio City back in 2022 under similar circumstances involving a gifted last-minute solo ticket and I had an expectedly profound time. It was so cathartic to be around so many young women (tweens, really) and their parents singing along to music that is so much more nuanced than what was on the radio in my middle school years (note to self, work on your piece about that.) MSG was like that but on steroids. My favorite moment was towards the end of “All-American Bitch,” when Olivia invited everyone to “think about something or someone that really fucking pisses you off” and let it out after the line “I scream inside to deal with it.” The segue from that into the schoolgirl hymnal of “I’m pretty when I cry” was transcendent.
On Monday, I went to watch the solar eclipse in Greenwood Cemetery with a bunch of pals. I had been a bit eclipse agnostic and was considering staying inside which is just like…okay, get over yourself. I’m glad I left the house for such a joyous communal experience (and for the incredible eclipse-themed black-and-white cookie I got at the cemetery) but the 90% totality broke something in me because I was almost immediately struck down with an absolutely awful cold that left me mushy and bedridden for the rest of the week.
READING:
Journal of a Solitude by May Sarton
I did recently promise that I read books…I just finished a re-read of Helter Skelter! I’m still in the early pages of this book, a wise recommendation from Al, but it’s already an all-time favorite.
Festivals Without Drinking // Laura Snapes // The Guardian
A lovely piece from the best of the best.
“Festival-drunk” is a particular kind of drunk. It tends to begin its steady pickling as soon as the sun is over the yardarm and last a good 12 hours or more. At its best, it’s a heavenly feeling: your most sparkling, sunkissed self, your close friends, the soundtrack to your lives writ large in front of you; the suspicion that Carly Rae Jepsen might be a child of God. The day is both endless but also laced with premature nostalgia for the present moment.
Fan Fiction — A Satire // Tavi Gevinson
An incomparable opus, too rich to quote from, I suggest burrowing under your covers and reading in one gulp.
Until next week,
God, that menswear article...