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1. I had a goat cheese and blueberry ice cream this week. It's a lot like cheesecake ice cream, except for the fact that if you think about it too long, it really does taste like you're eating spoonfuls of plain goat cheese.
   
2. Instant Pots beep too long when they're finished cooking. Three beeps would be enough. Why one hundred million, then?
   
3. I'm learning to draw. At the moment I have no original ideas and only created distorted copies of other artists' work from Pinterest and Instagram (one example pictured above). It's fun!
4.  I'm getting a new piano keyboard at the end of the week! I hated practicing the piano from ages 6 to 18. Then I became an Adult and there was no one reminding me to practice, I had no impending recitals, and no audiences. I played for an hour twice a week in a college basement, the most I had ever practiced in my life. And now in my apartment my mini keyboard will be replaced by something a little nicer and the fun will continue!
5. It's almost soup season- Butler, please cue the "you better work, bitch" TikTok audio and point the speakers at my Instant Pot.

-Claire

When it comes to furniture, I really only have eyes for Big Squishy. Anything with needlessly wide cushions and needlessly deep tufting calls my name. And, being a begrudging social media user, I have not been immune to the many images circulating lately of the Cameleonda Sofa, designed by Mario Bellini and recently reissued by B&B Italia after a 50-year hiatus. Talk about big squishy. The sofa's cushions are 90 x 90 centimeters, and the form is endlessly modular.

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As luxurious as these sofas are- their expert craftsmanship is reflected in a multi-thousand dollar price point- their elevated style belies the primary piece of equipment that makes their modularity possible: carabiners. It feels odd to think of Mario Bellini, a world-renowned Italian architect, settling upon carabiners to connect his most iconic design. 

Then again, there is something deliciously 1970s about the sofa's system of cords and metal loops holding together a really funky and inviting piece of furniture. Modularity allows for that kind of experimental, DIY quality that was so huge during the counterculture revolution of the 20th century. I mean, remember inflatables?

Today, the appeal of such a customizable, flexible piece is clear. With many of the people who could theoretically afford a Cameleonda Sofa now working from home, there is a much greater emphasis on making domestic interiors work for exactly what you need them to do. 

But honestly, I'm still preoccupied with the carabiners question. The re-released edition of the Cameleonda brought its carabiner system with it, so where else are we seeing these little clippies? Carabiners are a classic belt loop-key chain solution and an essential piece of equipment for any outdoor enthusiasts. 

Weirdly, outdoorsy activities are getting almost as trendy as Bellini's sofa. The fashion attached to such activities is having its own moment, and that moment has been dubbed "gorpcore" ("gorp" being a goofy hiker name for trail mix). The golden thread, or perhaps the golden oblong metal ring, connecting these trends is none other than the small but mighty carabiner.

Is it finally time for carabiners themselves to take center stage? Will luxury designers adopt the little guys for decorative purposes in homage to their utilitarian, adventurous roots? Time will tell. All I know is that I am now really excited at the idea of sofa cushions that click together and seeing runway models rock designer hiking gear. 

- Helen

One cute and fun thing about me is that when my anxiety flares up, it turns me into a disgruntled and embittered woman who firmly believes she does not care about anything at all. I spent eight of the last twelve months sincerely convinced that I didn't have any hobbies or interests. I rolled my eyes at the meet and greets at the start of the hellishly virtual school year. I resisted forming any real friendships because I was certain that I didn't even want to be there in the first place. 

I don't think that I'm a delusional person, so I am choosing to believe that the grumpy and jaded person I just described is not actually who I am, at least not normally. I don't think I was that way this summer at all, with my reading and befriending strangers and going dancing. However, having now been around the proverbial block, I also know that I can very easily become that person, given particular circumstances. And, tragically, I am barreling headfirst into those exact circumstances once more, all because it is mid-August and two years ago I thought it would be a fun idea to do even more school after graduating college. 

So, here I am, already worked up over the mere threat of my mental health being compromised again just like it was this time last year. I tell myself that things are different, which, in fairness, they really are. I tell myself that now that I know this anxiety stuff might be an issue, I can handle it better. Sure. I'm sure these things are true. But I'm also sure that I'm about to be a whole lot of busy after a long, delicious hiatus of very few obligations at all. 

So, what am I doing this for anyway, if it's so scary? I tend to forget. The most probable answer is that I want to do work that helps people, that protects them, that makes lives better. That I believe in collectivity and human connection and in the capacity of urban planning and design to advance those things thoughtfully, despite our decades-long track record of wrecking a lot of good things. I'm no utopian, but I'm a desperate optimist. 

Really, the anticipation of all of this (orientation doesn't start for another two days) is getting difficult because I have no idea how to prepare. It's been over a year since I've set foot on any kind of campus, let alone gone to work or study in a place other than my own apartment. I don't know how people dress in grad school. I don't know how to pack a lunch anymore, or even if I need to pack a lunch at all. I don't know if I will be able to study again! I don't know if I will get sick of this just like the last time I tried to start grad school and, well, hated it. And, to follow this thread to its end, I don't know what I would do if it turns out that this really isn't for me, despite my best efforts.

So, this week, think good thoughts for the lady who used to love making schedules but is now doing breathing exercises every time she adds to her Google Calendar. Hope, for her sake, that things progress gently and that the end goals that got her into this mess stay somewhat visible despite the tumult. 

I'm sure that everything will be fine. It always is, mostly. And, if it isn't, I'll be coming right back here to overthink at you even more. 

Kisses!

- Helen

Entering the my-own-apartment chapter of my twenties (!), I seem to constantly be on the lookout for objects and things that would make me a better host. How can I make guests more comfortable? How do I curate a sense of home for my friends? As loving as it sounds, half of this is rooted in my desire for them to come to see me as often as possible. I love the company and I love being of service, so I like the idea of being ready with snacks, extra toothbrushes, and drinkable wine. 

My last houseguest was originally only visiting for an afternoon to use my internet since they had just moved to a new place and were having difficulties getting modem-ed. Before they could get home, though, a thunderstorm rolled in and we decided on a sleepover! I discovered I did, in fact, have an extra toothbrush, and we ordered pizza and watched Mark L. Wahlberg cringe his way through a few episodes of Moment of Truth. If you haven't come across Moment of Truth yet, it's an early 00s game show where contestants reveal increasingly incriminating information about themselves in front of their friends and family. It's available on YouTube. Stream at your own peril.

It felt great to be able to offer my friend a more comfortable night than they would have had running through the rain to get to the subway station. It made me more certain that I find that kind of thing rewarding, after being able to test it out a bit, so now I'm on a mission to make my still half-furnished apartment the ultimate respite from the urban chaos just two floors down. 

Lately, specific items filter their way to the top of my (extensive, vacation-mode) internet browsing. The first of these, which I came across yesterday, is this adorable gift set of soaps from Claus Porto. Not only is nice soap an objectively hospitable thing to have on deck, but the design of these wrappers is also enough to make me want to collect them like an archivist. Speaking of excellent graphic design, one of my favorite discoveries of the year, Fishwife Tinned Seafood Company, has my whole heart. 

Another key staple to hosting well is obviously a nice wine, but as I am an amateur, I love the idea of leaving it up to someone else to curate it. I dream of one day being so fancy and social as to participate in a wine club like Glou Glou Girls, based in my beloved Austin, Texas. Even though I'm way out of their delivery zone now, I adore them and wish them great success. If you're in the Austin area, give them your money. 

I guess what we've learned so far is that great graphic design can make anything seem like a good idea. And that there are too many delicious, good-smelling things in the world to keep track of, but it's worth it to start trying. 

Around a year ago now, I wrote to you as I developed something like a theory of hotness, where you just do things that turn you on a little bit. Live a life you're really into, all that. Now, I'm branching out into a theory of host-ness, and am on a mission to make my apartment the most delicious and cozy and "come on in, make yourself at home"-type place my friends have ever seen. I may be aiming high, but I think my intentions are immacculate. Until next time.

- Helen 

Welcome to August, friends! Sit back, cue "August" from Folklore (obviously), and browse some things that we are particularly into this month.

HEADPHONES IN

In the world of music, we have a couple exciting releases, most notably Lorde's long-awaited third album, Solar Power. We are cautiously optimistic for this one, as there are mixed reviews within the editorial team. The album comes out on August 20.

Also, Molly Burch just released her album Romantic Images, and of course, it is fantastic. Not to mention she has one of the most fun singing voices in the pop-indie industry. Give it a listen!

A still from the music video for title track "Solar Power" - Bandwagon

LOOK AT THIS

It turns out that Olympic skateboarding is a vibe- a huge congratulations to this 13-year-old who makes us feel tremendously uncool but at a very safe distance. Keep... shredding? What are the correct terms?

SAVE THE DATE

Keep August 9 on your calendar if you're into rice pudding because this is your day to celebrate. 

Painter Yuri Yuan has a show up at the Alexander Beggruen gallery in New York City until August 31.

Finally, this month is bringing us a real blue moon on August 21, so make sure to get out and do all the things you can really only do once in a blue moon. Now's the time!

Happy August, readers.

After a long, rainy July, this summer has begun to feel twice-baked. We were allowed some time to cool, ease our sunny squints, and listen to thunder resonate along our streets. Now, the fast approach of August is bringing the sun back, and with it the second act of summer. In homage to a bumpy, fraught, sweaty season, here are some paintings that feel like summer.

Slumbering Sea, Mentone; Thomas Roberts, 1887.

Luncheon of the Boating Party, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, 1880-1881.

Golden Summer, Eaglemont; Arthur Streeton, 1889.

Sunrise over the Eastern Sea, Fujishima Takeji, 1932.

The Pink Robe. After the Bath, Joaquín Sorolla, 1916.

White Sun on the Corn, Maurice Denis, 1914.

Margarita, Of Old and New, Ngozi Schommers, 2015.

La maison du pêcheur, Varengeville, Claude Monet, 1882.

Emerald Mosses and Verdant Turf, Gyoshū Hayami, 1928.

Swimmers, Jávea, Joaquín Sorolla, 1905.