Welcome to this week’s Street Sweeper! I’m your host, Fiona Herzog.
As is the norm for junior fall, my small talk has essentially collapsed into recruiting updates. “How are you?” has become shorthand for “How’s the job search?” And while it’s true that I’m juggling the additional responsibility of figuring out how to support myself once college ends, the real answer is: I’m good. Really good. I’m making new friends, cherishing old ones, and saying “yes” to things that make life feel full and chaotic in the best way. In the past week, I’ve built a 3D koi pond puzzle, celebrated Oktoberfest, cooked braised pork belly rice (10/10), travelled over 23,000 steps multiple days in a row, and more.
If there’s one caveat, though, it’s this: I am constantly hungry. Junior year has me balancing class, personal projects, and a busy social life—but unlike sophomore year, if I get too tired to grocery shop … well, let’s just say I come home to an empty fridge and the gnawing realization that ramen can only carry a girl so far.
With that, check out the ways Street has been letting loose on campus: Apes darty, Chappell Roan, situationships, and a housewarming that was warm for all the wrong reasons.
The Buzz on Locust
Darty @ Apes
Blue and purple wristbands stand out against the bright white foam. It’s a sunny Friday afternoon, and Apes is filled to the brim with people and bubbles.
You’ve got the classic cloth banisters hung from windows and a DJ playing house music that no one’s familiar with. But what sets Foam apart is, as the name suggests, the white suds that coat the floor, your clothing, and your eyes. If you were blinded walking back to your dorm, you aren’t alone—most Foam–goers experienced the same surreal disorientation of finding suds in abnormal places.
Experiencing this frothy Friday feels like a rite of passage. You surrender to the foam as it seeps into your sneakers, your phone’s speaker, and your heart. By the time the bubbles dry and your wristbands find their way inside a drawer, you’re left with the joy of being a part of something fleeting, yet unforgettable.
–Joy Chu, staff writer
Herzog Housewarming @ Herzog House
Priya Parker’s The Art of Gathering is the Bible for every Herzog party. The main takeaway of the book is that how you use space and arrange people determines the character of a party. In other words, when you invite far too many people and enclose them in a poorly ventilated room, you inevitably get mass overstimulation and disappointment.
The Glass Cocoon was intended to be a housewarming. Instead, it felt more like a frat party with warm lighting.
I am not an advocate for exclusivity, to be clear. But I think that invite lists and curation have a purpose. When there are too many people in a space, the quality of the experience decreases for everyone. Instead of sitting in peace and appreciating Jake Zubkoff (C ‘26) go crazy on the keys or relishing the artful cocktails in Herzog’s kitchen–turned–bar, the innocent partygoer is instead stuck behind a gaggle of AEPi brothers stopping all traffic to take a picture on the stairwell. My critique: Despite the clear hard work Herzog put into the endeavor, a critical mass of the party refused to buy in. And perhaps it didn’t help that everyone was packed like sardines—yet could hardly communicate with their neighbor.
Still, I say this as a grumpy old fart who has largely outgrown their partying days. I appreciated Herzog as a place where I would inevitably run into and catch up my friends while enjoying the fruits of Penn’s music scene outside of the confines of a theater. But now all those friends have graduated, replaced by a doe–eyed set of freshmen excited to create their own space. Maybe this is my sign to step away rather than hold a house to the expectations set by parties thrown by its previous generations. Senior year, I am learning about outgrowing the spaces you once found comfort in—or perhaps letting their invite lists outgrow you.
–Norah Rami, editor–in–chief
Reminiscing on Your Situationship @ Hill College House
You know how every link you click on Wikipedia eventually leads you to the Philosophy page? Recently, I’ve uncovered a similar effect: Every conversation past eleven o’clock in freshman dorms, if held long enough, will eventually lead to how much literally everyone misses their ex–situationship.
While not an official event, these late–night sessions need to be reported on. They go by many different names; whether you’re debriefing, lore dropping, or “fake locking–in,” hanging out in someone’s dorm and talking late into the night connects many freshmen week after week. Sometimes, it creates a “safe space” where it’s okay to be vulnerable and talk about your feelings. Other times, roommates hear about “Ellie” so much they can’t bear to listen anymore.
You’d think it’d be an ex–partner: someone who you share a deep, defined connection with. But that’s almost never the case—people either look at those memories sweetly or completely deplore their manipulative ex. It’s always the “should’ve beens”— the half–relationships, the undefined hook–up buddies, and the more–than–friends—that haunt the average college student’s mind.
I thought it was a kind of FOMO for a relationship that didn’t happen, but Bridget Lu (W ‘29) said that it’s because we idolize what could’ve been, missing “a person that didn’t really exist.” We miss the perfect partner we made them out to be in our heads, leaving us pining for a Prince Charming who was really just a dude named Liam.
Letting go of actual partners is hard but doable; we’ve seen them for who they really are, flawed and precious humans, just like us. Maybe people can’t get over their ex–situationship because it’s much harder to let go of a dream.
–Joshua Wangia, staff writer
Mid Food @ Wonder Food Hall
If you’ve recently been coerced into using a code with the format “random name + random number,” it was probably for the ghost kitchen Wonder. After one too many McClelland chicken bowls, I caved and decided to see what the buzz was about for myself.
Wonder is modeled after a food hall, housing 20 different restaurants of various ethnic cuisines. On the day of my visit, I was craving Asian food and ordered a poke salad with tofu (don’t come for me—I was scared to consume any raw fish). There was one problem, however. I couldn’t actually place my order. When I tried to check out, the kiosk refused to let me leave unless I added Spindriff, a vegan brownie, or roasted broccoli to my cart. Clearly, coercion is a consistent theme for Wonder’s brand.
After 10 agonizing minutes of stomach grumbles, my poke bowl came. To my surprise, it was decent. The vegetables were fresh, and the tofu—all five measly pieces of it—packed a punch. My one note is that they went overboard on the soy sauce, leaving every bite too salty. Luckily, my mandated side of broccoli was completely unseasoned, which balanced the overall flavors of my dining experience.
For a whopping total of five dollars, a meal from Wonder might be worth it. While I will not be returning anytime soon, I would definitely recommend the restaurant to anyone who’s bored out of their mind and looking to try something new.
–Sierra Huang, staff writer
Popping the Bubble
Chappell Roan @ Forest Hills Stadium
“Oh my god, I forgot my bottom was just a thong!”
On the first day of four sold–out shows at Forest Hills Stadium, I boarded the Amtrak headed to New York. Arriving at the barricade, I was surrounded by fans in lace safety vests, neon–orange construction hats, and cowboy hats—a nod to the show’s headliner, Chappell Roan.
After openers consisting of a drag show and indie rock band Japanese Breakfast, Roan herself arrived in shimmering red pirate attire with her all–women band to an eruption of cheers from over 13,000 fans. Behind her was a Gothic castle set complete with all the classics: a balcony designed with intricate spirals, a looming tower, and, of course, a gargoyle drawbridge.
Throughout the show, Roan channeled the theatrical tendencies of early women rockers like Debbie Harry of Blondie, even passionately covering Heart’s “Barracuda.” Roan’s set demonstrated her range as she skillfully bounced between genres, from the country–forward “The Giver” to emotional breakup ballads like “The Subway.”
In an eccentric night of castles, corsets, and carabiners, Roan reminded us all why she continues to be a dominant force in today’s pop landscape.
–Melody Cao, staff writer
Phila Flea Market @ Drexel University
Phila Flea Market knows their audience. I traverse the aisles of the pop–up at Drexel University on Saturday and see shot glasses upon shot glasses (upon shot glasses … ) line dozens of vendors’ tables, each cup cheaper than the last. It’s a very ECON–0100–law–of–demand–esque effort to coerce all–too–willing college students into purchasing yet more alcohol paraphernalia. Seeing as every last one of the tables had at least a couple twenty–somethings crowded around it, I suppose the strategy worked
Personally, I was drawn to the jewelry—perhaps a little too much. There were antique rings (which I bought), bangles (which I bought), and a super sick necklace of an astronaut holding up a star (which I left behind and walked 50 feet away from before turning back around to purchase). “There’s a difference between buying four $10 things and buying one $40 thing,” I found myself saying to my roommate afterward in an attempt to justify all my purchases. “More items bought for the same dollar value.” I was definitely just trying to convince myself.
Let it be known that this was only the second flea market I’ve ever been to, and across those two excursions, I’ve spent maybe $100. In Penn terms, that’s ten Bento bowls at Houston Market, 21 grande iced Americanos from Stommons, or whatever nonstandard metric you prefer. But is it really overconsumption if it’s secondhand? Don’t answer that. What if every item I bought was a really, really good deal? Don’t answer that either.
TL;DR: College students truly believe “IT’S SHOT O’CLOCK SOMEWHERE.” Also, you should never let me loose in a flea market ever again.
–Digit Kim, staff writer
Another Saxby’s Closing @ Drexel Saxby’s on 33rd and Chestnut Streets
Sitting in The Board and Brew, I realize the Drexel Saxbys on 33rd and Chestnut streets is gone. I’m absolutely devastated even though it was kind of shit. The loss of the 40th and Locust streets Saxby’s was already heartbreaking enough. Seeing the blacked–out windows of Metropolitan Bakery every time I leave the Stroffice, I’m reminded of Penn’s cafe void. My perfect vanilla bean iced matcha latte is now a 20–minute walk away. I’m forced to write my articles on the steps outside of Claudia Cohen Hall, not in a cute café with Clairo playing in the background. Pret a Manger is not enough. Starbucks is not enough. I can’t sit and judge performative men trying to be lesbians in Stommons. I can’t look cute in Pret. Penn students, especially those in Street, require café culture to thrive. My articles would be so much better if I could get my vanilla bean matcha in under five minutes. The Penn café void isn’t just a geographical one—I can feel it in my heart. #BringBackSaxbys
–Sadie Daniel, Focus beat
