What are you up to this weekend? My friend Alison (of Ethan Hawke fame) and I are going to see the one-woman play Oh God, a Show About Abortion, which is supposed to be great. (I’ll report back!) Hope you have a good one, and here are a few links from around the web…
Author Brandon Taylor tweeted his funny reactions while watching When Harry Met Sally. “Billy Crystal was so hot, like, what. A man. With a normal human body. Subtly caked up… Wow, a movie that is told in chronological order. Remember that… This movie is 20 minutes in. We must be on like page 25 of this screenplay by now. They are FLYING through this dialogue.”
The trailer for Fire Island looks great.
Big queer cold noodles. “As a college student in Taiwan, I would often go to one particular hole-in-the-wall cold noodle shop for a late-night slurp after a long night of drinking. It wasn’t an explicitly queer establishment, but it was near the only lesbian bar in Taipei, and it provided a sense of queer community, which was rare in my daily life. This recipe is my tribute to the spaces in Taipei that host young queer folks like me, where I got to feel free and comfortable in my own skin while having affordable, delicious food.”
The vibrator to end all vibrators. (Take 15% off your order with code CUPOFJO15)
TikTok’s hottest drink is jam seltzer. So intrigued.
Is it time to reconsider boarding school’s place in pop culture? “Variety still isn’t there in the boarding school literature space, or in the wider media in general. While teens of all races and backgrounds are welcome to arrive at fictional boarding schools specializing in supernatural abilities, it’s rare to see creators step outside of white narratives — especially white male narratives — when it comes to telling stories about these elite institutions… I eventually returned to these topics in my own boarding school memoir, Admissions, writing about trying to fit in as a Black student during my three years at Taft.”
What a pretty dress!
Oxygenate the family unit. Loved this. (NYMag)
Prince Louis goes on a journey, haha. (The Atlantic)
Padma Lakshmi shares her beauty routine for hyperpigmentation. (Vogue)
Plus, three reader comments:
Says Elizabeth what’s everyone wearing this summer: “In an extraordinary move for myself, I’m declaring this the summer of pale legs. I have very, very pale skin and have been self-conscious about being pale in the summer for my entire life. But this year, inspired by Katie Sturino, I have decided that gone are the days of wearing only maxi dresses and pants all summer. Bring. On. The. Pale. Calves. I’m unleashing them on the world, which is a huge step for me that’s 30+ years in the making, AND… I doubt anyone out in this great big world (including my husband/kids) will pay it one bit of attention. It’s just for me.”
Says Jac on what’s everyone wearing this summer: “I live in the South, where it’s often over 80 degrees first thing in the morning and in the 90s by noon. My stay-cool summer uniform: linen or cotton sundresses (Old Navy, J.Crew and H&M have lots) with Gizeh Big Buckle Birks and cotton underwear — this is KEY. I probably change my underwear four times a day. I tried all the various synthetics and quick dry options and, in the end, came back to cotton bikinis. Also, during the pandemic, I bought an eight-foot stock tank, put it in my backyard and added water. I now get in throughout the day to cool off. I call it my Cowgirl Pool, aka my Perimenopause Treatment Tank. It has seriously changed my life.”
Says Jen on six women on relationship breaks: “I first met my neighbor, Carlos, when I moved into his townhouse complex. He was handsome, always wore a suit, and smiled every time he saw me. I was pretty positive he was gay, and I was in a relationship anyway, but being around him made me happy. I looked forward to our quick chats every morning as we got into our cars for work. Shortly after moving in, I found out I was pregnant, and my boyfriend decided that wasn’t for him. He wanted to take a break to process things. Carlos never commented on the situation, but he certainly noticed my growing stomach and suddenly absent boyfriend. He’d find little ways to help out, like carrying my groceries. My windshield was mysteriously scraped free of snow every morning. When I went into labor, I couldn’t get a hold of anyone — my mom and my sister weren’t answering their phones, and the baby’s dad had dropped out of the picture. In desperation, I knocked on Carlos’s door, sobbing, and asked him to go with me to the hospital. He looked petrified, but he nodded, drove me to the hospital, and stayed for the birth. There were a couple times I thought he might bolt, like when he asked for a chair to sit down because the room was spinning. But he stayed he stayed he stayed. When the nurse brought over my daughter, cleaned and wrapped in a white blanket, she moved to hand her to Carlos and said, ‘Here she is, Daddy.’ I started to say that he was just a friend, but he looked at me and said ‘Yes, that’s me, I’m the father.’ And from that moment on, he was. It turns out that he wasn’t gay. He moved in with me the day I came home from the hospital, and we got married a year later. Here we are 20 years later, and he’s been the most incredible husband and father to our three kids. Ironically, the one who looks the most like him is the one who isn’t biologically his. We dropped her off at college last fall, and she called one day to tell us that her boyfriend had asked to take a break. My husband winked at me and told her to keep her chin up because the break might lead to something incredible.”
(Photo by kkgas/Stocksy.)