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(04/18/25 4:00am)
Going to college in Philly, we’re so often bombarded—both on social media and in real life—with seemingly endless options for how to spend our free time. So, I’m delighted to announce that Street has done the hard part for you: We’ve rounded up what we think are the can’t–miss events for the month in one convenient place. If I’ve done my job right, there’ll be something in here for every one of our readers, no matter what you like to do with your free time.
(04/13/25 4:42pm)
It's one of those days when everything feels like it's going wrong. You don't get your friend into the party (and nearly end a different friendship in the process), the guy you thought was pretty cool bails on you for his girlfriend, an ex–hookup hits you up at the worst time, and you’re sobering up in the cold wind. The host almost doesn’t let you into the venue because they don’t “do” press passes (despite you having an email confirming your press pass). All you have been looking forward to for three months now is this one concert, someone who you think made your Album of the Year, and still the opener is terrible. But maybe, just maybe, it’ll be worth it.
(04/28/25 6:40pm)
Photography is, in one sense, a limitless medium that demands no specific space to practice. In any given location, smartphones effortlessly capture the fleeting moments of the day. Staged: Studio Photographs from the Collection aims for something different. In contrast to the non– fabricated nature of our visual world—where photographers are unable to meticulously sculpt every component of their desired shot—this exhibition showcases objects and portraits of figures photographed exclusively in the studio where the artist takes full control.
(05/22/25 9:19pm)
Tucked away in a gallery of her own in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, Christina Ramberg’s A Retrospective is a masterclass in interrogating perceptions of women. As a part of the Chicago Imagists, her paintings encapsulate the pop culture styles of the late 1960s and draw inspiration from an eclectic range of sources, including flea market dolls, thrift store paintings, and dumpster mannequins that the artist has scavenged for. Leaving faces almost entirely out of her work, Ramberg establishes a mysterious sensuality with focus on hairstyles, hands, midriffs, and shoes, which the artist distorts to encapsulate the sinister expectations placed upon femininity.
(04/18/25 4:00am)
The smell of hot hibiscus tea fills the air and the acidity of freshly cut limes lightly stings my eyes as I stand in Las Parcelas, one of the largest community gardens in North Philadelphia. Roosters roam the streets, the homes are vibrantly painted, and music booms through car windows out into the air—it’s as if I have entered a new soundscape altogether.
(04/09/25 7:17pm)
The climate change apocalypse in Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower is frighteningly tangible. Written in 1993, the novel is presented as a series of journal entries beginning in 2024, which tell the story of Lauren Oya Olamina as she navigates a particularly tumultuous period of American history. Journalists will come to describe this era as “accidentally coinciding climatic, economic, and sociological crises,” literally coining it “the Apocalypse” (or “Pox” for short).
Our parable opens on a bleak image of Robledo, Calif., Lauren’s relatively affluent neighborhood. “Relatively” does a lot of work here, as the residents of this Los Angeles suburb scratch out a living behind a massive wall meant to keep out the hungry, crazy “street poor.” In the Pox, fresh water is a treasured commodity, crime is a given, and jobs are nigh impossible to come by. Still, the residents of Robledo cling onto their old lives, dreaming of a return to the good old days even as the nation descends further into anarchy. Families lend each other resources, temporary shelter, and neighborly gossip. All the while, news of pyromania–inducing drugs and growing instability reach the townspeople, who continue to compartmentalize the issue as an outside problem.
Meanwhile, we learn that Lauren has been putting together plans for the inevitable collapse of Robledo. We even learn through her journals of the religion she has started to develop, coined “Earthseed.” Each chapter is prefaced by a passage from Lauren’s self–written holy texts. The daughter of a pastor, Lauren chafes under the antiquated rituals and expectations of her father’s faith, instead turning to Change as her God, the dominant power in her universe. At 15 years old, she is already writing passages that refine her vague belief in Change to a holy text, which teaches her future disciples to navigate the Pox without becoming complacent, myopic, or nostalgic.
When outsiders inevitably raze her neighborhood, Lauren must brave a world she has prepared her whole life for but never properly known. What’s more, she must do so while hiding a secret: She is afflicted by “hyperempathy,” feeling the sensations, both pain and pleasure, of any living person she sees. While hyperempathy may seem initially like a unique power, it means that as part of the street poor, she must act ruthlessly—killing, rather than wounding, any assailants.
A striking feature of the Pox is its normalcy. Butler does not sell us a romanticized view of apocalypse, with joyous last hurrahs, agrarian lifestyles, or rugged–yet–principled survivalists. Her America is filled with the industrial complexes, desperate behaviors, and politics that make the Pox a believable period of history. At chain supermarkets, Lauren must buy such unglamorous things as water purification tablets and tampons (under armed guard, of course). On the road, she must join a growing wave of street poor on the journey north, in blind search of greener pastures without the drugs or droughts of Los Angeles. And in the outlying hills, Lauren must band together with her small group of survivors to fend off wild dogs, criminals, and the odd cannibal.
(04/20/25 6:18pm)
Between Jan. 7 and 31 of this year, two major fires roared through Los Angeles County, leaving behind the shells of cars and empty foundations of houses. On the western side of LA, the Palisades fire destroyed more than 20,000 acres of the Pacific Palisades; in the east, the Eaton Fire consumed 14,000 acres of Altadena, Calif. and nearby neighborhoods. By the time they were contained, 29 people had died, 200,000 were forced to evacuate, and the fires would become the second and third most destructive in California history.
(03/31/25 1:56pm)
It’s hard to shove your way through a crowd of thousands who are a few steps away from seeing their rock idol, and even harder when you’re sober. I fight to the ticket stand and resist the urge to clip one of the Fillmore’s strange Red Bull vodka lemonades before the crowd herds me into the main hall. As the space opens up, I take in the view around me—half prohibition speakeasy, half disco hall, full of people somehow dressed for both.
(04/18/25 4:00am)
It is no secret to (most) students at Penn that something must be done about climate change. Information about the climate crisis haunts our “For You” pages, taints our conversations with friends and family, and plagues our everyday lives with an omnipresent awareness of rising tension and temperatures. As the atmospheric carbon concentration mounts, so does our sense of impending doom—until we’re left with nothing but a sickening sense of helplessness and a high level of media fatigue. At times like these, it’s easier to detach from the world. Others choose to completely numb themselves to its chaos: The choice seems to be between Adderall, Van Pelt Library, or crawling back under the covers and never coming out.
(04/18/25 4:00am)
There are two religions in Italy: the Catholic Church and Ferrari.
(04/18/25 4:00am)
“Mommy pays,” insists Natalia Castillo (C '25), picking up the bill for the two of us at Abyssinia—before sheepishly asking me to calculate the tip. For the past year, Natalia has dutifully played the role of Street’s mother. She has stayed up till 4 a.m. to finalize the Dining Guide, stood out in the cold forcing issues of Street into the hands of reluctant readers, and even faced off against a booing crowd at Smokes for a Street launch event. But, more than anything, Natalia has been a mother in the way that she has turned Street into a home for so many.
(04/18/25 4:00am)
It’s the middle of a busy week on campus. The rhythm of Penn student life has kicked into full swing, and it feels as if everyone is stuck in a constant rotation between dorm, class, and library. Everyone is rushing—to finish the coveted club application, to score an A on the next exam, or to nail their upcoming internship interview. Amid it all, on a Wednesday night, Henry Montano (C ‘26) gathers the Penn Outdoors Club to play Pictionary.
(04/25/25 4:00am)
The butterfly effect was initially developed by mathematician Edward Lorenz in the 1960s. He posited that a tornado could have been caused by something so seemingly unrelated as a butterfly flapping its wings halfway around the world weeks prior. In decades since, it has become a catch–all way to describe how everything in the universe is interconnected, and a seemingly minor shift can ultimately cause a much larger change.
(04/18/25 4:00am)
You survive the crash. You tend to the injured and mourn the dead. You descend, ravenous, on the burned body of your fallen teammate because you know that’s what you have to do to make it through to another day.
(04/09/25 7:22pm)
If you were able to snag tickets to your favorite artist’s tour, chances are you flooded your feed with 30–second clips featuring your painfully off–key scream–singing. If you didn’t, you probably clench your fists in anger at the mere mention of the show you missed. Touring has captured the attention of music enthusiasts around the globe (literally) for decades, playing an integral role in album lifespan and artist visibility. However, given the ticking climate clock, environmental activists have criticized touring musicians for their carbon emissions and energy usage, opening a discussion on the potential of sustainable tours.
(04/18/25 4:00am)
One day before spring break, during which I would be headed to New York and Mexico City—two internationally renowned museum cities—I had to make one last pit stop in my home base. Philadelphia is filled with heavy hitters itself, and I was excited to check out a new one: The Academy of Natural Sciences of Drexel University. I wouldn’t just see the typical dinosaur bones and savanna tableaus, but also one of my true loves, fashion, in the museum’s Ecology of Fashion exhibit. Maybe my expectations were too high after hearing “fashion,” but I have never been more offended by a museum before in my life.
(04/03/25 1:48am)
Dinner in America isn't just another indie darling—it’s a film that makes misfits feel like main characters. It’s a love letter to outsiders, weirdo girls, punk boys, the neurodivergent, the anxious, the ones who spent middle school clutching their iPods like a life raft. If its massive TikTok resurgence is any proof, young women—especially neurodivergent ones—have claimed it as their own.
(03/07/25 7:49am)
For Mackenzie Sleeman (C ‘25), transferring to Penn wasn’t just about changing schools—it was about changing his outlook. Busy from a day of classes and meetings, he arrives at the Van Pelt-Dietrich Library’s booth with an easy smile, offering greetings as if you were already a familiar face. Every few minutes, he pauses to wave or exchange a few words with someone passing by—chances are, he already knows them. That's just the kind of energy Mackenzie carries. He’s the type of person who makes a big place like Penn feel a little smaller.
(03/21/25 4:00am)
I dress like a cartoon character. Bright colors, oversized sweaters, and the tendency to wear the same thing over and over again. With my bright yellow puffer, it’s easy to spot me in the midst of the 10:15 a.m. rush.
(03/30/25 5:11pm)
The Fashion District: a natural habitat for Philadelphia’s shopaholics and trendsetters. Stretching across 9th and Market Streets, this retail haven is a haven for editorial dreams. Upon entering, the irresistible prospect of a spree surrounds a collage of radiant model photos. Manifold vendors entertain the latest trends of diverse styles—retro, grunge, bohemian. For college students, one (intensive) session at these designer outlets can supply all the wardrobe essentials: formal gowns/suits, athleisure for coffee runs, loungewear while conquering that nasty hangover.
