Come Stay a While at The Lodge
Two months ago, The Lodge by Two Robbers opened its doors in the Bella Vista neighborhood.
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Two months ago, The Lodge by Two Robbers opened its doors in the Bella Vista neighborhood.
The first trailer for The Mandalorian & Grogu, released in September, should have felt like a victory lap. For years, fans wondered when Din Djarin (Pedro Pascal) and his tiny green apprentice would debut on the big screen. Instead, the first footage from the film landed with a thud. The visuals were crisp, the scale was familiar, but the feeling was faint. It looked less like a movie and more like an extended TV episode—a midseason special that somehow wandered into theaters.
Back when I first encountered PinkPantheress—a faceless phenom sharing snippets on SoundCloud and TikTok—I never anticipated how rapidly her work would come to dominate my playlists. From early flashes of virality with “Just A Waste” (please release it on streaming platforms, I don’t care about copyright law) to her cutesy 2023 collaboration with Ice Spice, PinkPantheress quickly cemented herself into the soundtrack of my coming–of–age arc.
Three people walk into a bar. They order drinks, talking about nothing in particular. Above them, an acoustic guitar version of “Birds of a Feather” by Billie Eilish plays. No one says anything about it—why would they? They already heard it at breakfast, at the coffee shop, at lunch. Maybe not Eilish this time—maybe Taylor Swift, maybe Phoebe Bridgers. Doesn’t matter. It’s the same oh–so–familiar song, dressed down with a guitar or piano track that fades into the next, equally ordinary tune. Come to think of it, that same soundtrack probably playing right now as I write this at Stommons.
The 2300 Arena is sequestered in a lonely area of South Philly. Locating it by public transport involves navigating a convoluted matrix of bus lines, many of which begin far into West Philly before diverting across the Schuylkill. The arena itself is unassuming; it sits within a corrugated facade, bounded by narrow unlit streets. Yet inside is one of the best places in the city to experience the odd alchemical magic of pro wrestling.
Nearly a year ago, Natalia Castillo invited Norah Rami, Hannah Sung, and me to her two–person apartment on Sansom and 40th streets. Natalia had been tasked to lead a poetry discussion, record it, and show it to Al Filreas’ ModPo class. She had chosen the poem “Just Walking Around” by John Ashbury—it’s beautiful, simple, and so bittersweet.
The ringing of twin copper bells held together by a thin length of red string announces our arrival at Mayflower Bakery. On this sunny Friday morning, the back of the restaurant has been converted (to the grudging acceptance of the owners) into a makeshift mahjong parlor. While the bakery doesn’t serve dim sum in the traditional sense, Cantonese folks around the world know that dim sum is more about the lifestyle—sustained by free–flowing tea, snacks, and gossip. A proudly local establishment at the heart of Philly’s Chinatown, this cash–only bakery doesn’t advertise or deliver—choosing instead to sit comfortably atop its impeccable buns.
FRIEDA hums with a quiet familiarity. The scent of fresh pastries wafts through the air, mingling with the low murmur of conversation and the soft clatter of coffee cups. Paintings line the white walls, their colors luminous under the morning light. Each table seems to tell a story—an artist sketching in his journal, a student furiously scribbling notes, or a pair of old friends reconnecting over breakfast.
Five years after 2020’s Slow Rush, Kevin Parker—better known by his musical project Tame Impala—finally released his fifth studio album, Deadbeat, on Oct. 17. Since then, the album has been the subject of endless criticism for its lyrics, sound, and overall concept. Parker's newest project shifts a bit from his usual synth–backed sound, bringing in influences from ‘70s Turkish music, techno, and Western Australia’s “bush doof” rave scene. That blend alone is enough to send all corners of the internet into a frantic debate. Few artists are expected to please such opposing audiences at once, and fewer still end up using that tension to make a point.
While walking down Locust Walk last week, I came to a blood–chilling realization that stopped me in my tracks: there were several people wearing the exact same outfit as me. It’s truly the worst nightmare of someone who prides herself on her niche, Pinterest board–curated fashion repertoire, but I only had myself to blame. Like a significant number of Penn students, I found myself at the Xfinity Mobile Arena on Sept. 30 and fell victim to the allure of an overpriced polyester t–shirt I would only later realize was not as cool as I believed—but isn’t that the definition of being a Lorde fan? Cultivated, audience–tested, and thoroughly–vetted nicheness is the manufactured rebellion we as a society revere.
“Imagine meeting someone and they say this is their side hobby,” the Instagram bio of @bathroomsinphilly reads. The name truly sums it all up. Since the summer of 2023, it’s been serving chaos, critique, and humor from behind the stall door of some of the most known restaurants and bars in Philly.
Recently, the sneaker community has been incredibly divided.
Tucked on the corner of Amber Street and Frankford Avenue in East Kensington sits Casa Borinqueña. Starting her career on the West Coast in San Francisco, Lourdes Marquez Nau—aka Chef Lulu—has since brought her skills to the streets of Philadelphia, opening the second location of her vegan restaurant back in June. Specializing in traditional Puerto Rican cuisine, the restaurant has a certain warmth that even a dreary East Coast day can’t take away.
“Can I get the ‘Impeach Bondi Then Eat Eggs Benedict Florentine,’ please?” I ask our waiter, who nods, expression unchanged. My fellow brunchgoer across the table follows suit: “And I’ll do the ‘Good Work Krasner! Berry Good French Toast.’” A wise choice, nestled just between the equally spirited “Impeach Noem” pumpkin pancakes and the “Shapiro 2028” sausage gravy and eggs.
When Kenan Rabah opened Majdal Bakery in 2024, his father, living in Majdal Shams, Syria, began to plant only za’atar in his garden. After it’s harvested, Rabah’s mother and grandmother dry it and mix it with sumac, sesame, and olive oil. Every time Rabah visits home, he makes sure to bring a little back with him to use at his bakery in Philly.
My hands numb to the extreme, I pry the frozen Rubbermaid container from the back of my freezer. There’s an imprint on the icy wall, but like all things, it will fade and evolve. Exhaustion seeps through my bones as I barely see through my fluttered eyes to press the digits of the microwave panel. I don’t have the time or patience to defrost the magical cooking of my mom, so I’ll rely on artificial radiation.
James Gunn’s Peacemaker just wrapped up its second season, and with it, one of the strangest and most ambitious swings in superhero television. The finale leaves the titular anti–hero stranded in another dimension, sets up the upcoming not–a–Superman–sequel film Man of Tomorrow, and quietly introduces some major concepts for the DCU’s future. What it doesn’t do, however, is end its own story.
Comfort. Fuel. Practicality. Decadence. We all eat, but how we conceptualize food is a different question altogether. Whether it’s perfectly framed shots of sizzling meat or the nauseating reality of the United States’ fast–food scene, food on the big screen never fails to invoke a visceral reaction. Here are some of Street’s favorite depictions—from the appealing to the appalling.
You’d be hard–pressed to find someone who’s never heard of The Office. Over the course of its nine–season run, the workplace sitcom cemented itself as a quintessential “comfort show,” and has since become one of the most beloved shows of our time. It’s for good reason—with characters who walk a fine line between ridiculous and recognizable, zingers that get stuck in your head long beyond when you want them to, and jokes that make you laugh even when you probably shouldn’t, it’s not the type of show you easily forget. But emotional resonance aside, its immense success reflects the time in which it aired —a time before streaming was universal and before social media fried all of our attention spans. So what does it look like to revisit the Dunder Mifflin universe twenty years later? This is the question that Greg Daniels and Michael Koman both ask and answer with their new The Office spin–off series The Paper.
It’s a daunting feat to successfully mix an action–comedy blockbuster with a prestige political thriller, but Paul Thomas Anderson does just that with One Battle After Another. The nearly three–hour film packs in everything from exhilarating shootouts to family drama, from “a few small beers” to reflections on political violence—and with such broad strokes of its brush, it’s no wonder that it’s been dubbed the “most controversial” film of the year.