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I have read two of Carmen Maria Machado’s works: her memoir In the Dream House and a short story from her forthcoming collection, The Tour. Both times her words almost brought me to tears. It’s not explicitly the content of her works that causes the swell of tears in my eyes, though their storylines are certainly powerful in and of themselves.
Pumpkin spice lattes, flannels, ombre highlights, Shane Dawson, Tana Mongeau, Drake, BuzzFeed Quizzes, and, of course, Coachella—only a few of the phrases that may be found in a time capsule of early–to–mid 2010s pop culture. If Drake was the King of Culture, and Beyoncé or Taylor Swift the Queen, then Coachella was pop culture’s palace, an event that took over social media and was attended by both up–and–coming influencers and YouTubers and traditional A–list celebrities. Coachella always seemed to be as undeniable of a cultural event as the Met Gala, and yet, this year’s Coachella seems like a non–event, suggesting that perhaps the 2010s are truly over.
The Black Panthers wore leather jackets, second–wave feminists wore miniskirts, and anti–Vietnam war protestors wore bell bottoms. Throughout history, fashion has been used by various social movements as forms of self–expression, resistance, and solidarity.
As tulips poke up along the banks of Boathouse Row, song birds return to telephone lines, and Penn students set up aesthetically pleasing picnics along the Schuylkill River, one thing is certain—it’s spring in West Philadelphia. What’s less obvious is that a burgeoning network of trails criss–crossing the city supports these bucolic celebrations of spring. These trails are critical for urban recreation and the health of wildlife, and they rely on public support to accomplish their goals.
It feels cliche to begin any letter about adulting with the phrase “growing up.” I’m going to do it anyway, but here’s hoping that I can get a pass for calling myself out. At the very least, you’ll have to acknowledge my self–awareness.
It’s not an uncommon thought to dream of being famous. Strangers knowing your name, having an infinite amount of money to spend, taking luxurious vacations, and doing what you love for a living—all of these prospects seem quite enticing.
Outside of being a rockstar bassist herself, Ana Gomez (C ‘23) did not expect one first–year CIMS class to remarkably rock her world. Now as co–director of SPEC Jazz and Grooves and president of the Kinoki Senior Society, Ana helps coordinate much of the rockstar concerts at Penn from 100 gecs to Luna Li and Talia Goddess. Her experience and expertise in entertainment does not stop there. Ana channels her love for film, music, and creativity as an intern for A24 and Warner Bros. as well as an attendee of the 2022 Cannes Film Festival in France. As a member of both Penn and Philly’s community of film–lovers and music–groovers, Ana hopes this community is not only here to stay, but also here to grow.
After a hectic week of classes, I’m looking forward to one thing. Windows closed, dorm door locked, and computer brightness all the way down, I open up an incognito tab and navigate to my secret guilty pleasure: Outer Banks.
At Street, we wear our influences and our college student misadventures on our sleeves. That’s why I’ll tell you straight up that the genesis for this article wasn’t fully original. It’s our version of The Cut’s “The New Rules,” which presents 140 etiquette guidelines for modern life post–COVID–19. The difference is our list was written with one specific group in mind: Penn’s graduating senior class. You might ask what business do a bunch of college students have giving other college students advice about the “real world?” To which I’d say you’re absolutely right, and…
Butterflies, tigers, a pair of crying eyes, a blossoming branch—if you can imagine it, Iza Hu (C '23) can design and tattoo it.
Going to college in Philly, we're so often bombarded—on social media and IRL—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 weekends.
With five years of experience being in therapy, I’d like to say I have a good grasp on life’s most complex questions. Lucky for you, I pay very close attention to my therapist’s answers, and I now consider myself qualified to step into the role of advice giver for you lovely readers based on questions you submitted to us here at 34th Street. I also took Intro Psych my freshman year, so I’m well on my way to being an expert.
Belated and transient, the spring has finally decided to make its splashy appearance with the sunny days; summer, by extension, is just around the corner. Well away with the haze of the pandemic that has encroached upon the film and television industry for three years, this summer will undoubtedly offer everyone a splendid feast. For me, it’s anxiously waiting for a promised thrilling ride with Christopher Nolan’s cinematic sensation Oppenheimer or Pixar’s latest entry Elemental, while at the same time eagerly anticipating the premiere of arthouse gems like Ken Loach’s The Old Oak, Aki Kaurismäki’s Fallen Leaves, or Wang Bing’s Jeunesse. Though, arguably, there’s still the ordeal of finals week to survive, Street’s decided to offer you a treat of all the incoming blockbusters, returning series, and quirky originals that are set to premiere in summer 2023.
Adulthood is turning on a podcast. The choice of the monotone voice of NPR over the melodies of Taylor Swift. Tuning into the affairs of the economy instead of dancing to your main character soundtrack. Listening to words of wisdom rather than singing along to those lyrics you know so well.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
In January, my best friend called me and told me she was pregnant. She was also getting married in less than 48 hours.
Whenever someone walks in the room, you may first notice their sweater—a cerulean blue that goes perfect with their warm undertones. Maybe you like the sleek silhouette of their black suit but adore their olive socks they boldly paired with it. When the light hits their jacket, you notice a tiny chrysanthemum broach. You don’t know it, but they always wear it because of a book character with the same floral name.
Being a humanities major at Penn is harder than you’d expect. Even campus coffee shops—a haven for our kind—are buzzing with coffee chats for prestigious finance jobs and consulting clubs on any given afternoon.
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,
every episode of girls (hbo) is a aesop's fable, the moral of which is "wherever you go, there you are"
Solutions by The State News