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The fashion side of TikTok and Instagram is booming. There are countless tutorials on how to incorporate color into your wardrobe like a Scandi girl, thousands of get–ready–with–me videos featuring French style button–downs and flared jeans, and endless clips of outfits of the day on the streets of New York City. In mainstream media, the West is synonymous with exemplary taste—NYC, Paris, London, and Milan are exalted as the world’s fashion capitals, and Western designers are worshiped for their pioneering collections. But why don’t we ever seem to hear about the groundbreaking style choices of the rest of the world? Why is social media constantly bombarded with posts romanticizing Western fashion, but rarely with those recognizing global fashion?
The past two years have seen the prolific rise of new female rap stars. From GloRilla’s “F.N.F.” to Ice Spice’s “Munch (Feelin’ You),” rising female rap stars have been at the forefront of pop culture. Indeed, these young stars’ rises have been marked by high–profile collabs like Ice Spice's verse on "Karma" by Taylor Swift, and cosigns by established veterans like Cardi B and Nicki Minaj. But St. Louis’ own Sexyy Red seems to be running ahead of her peers in terms of grassroots support. Her raw authenticity and infectious nature set her apart—and in comparison, the pull of her originality makes her contemporaries feel manufactured. Sexyy Red, currently best known for her “Pound Town 2” remix with Nicki Minaj and her solo single “SkeeYee” off of the album Hood Hottest Princess produced by Tay Keith, brings a genuine charm to a polished and even plasticky music industry.
It’s a summer night—warm and hazy, late August, cocktail of nostalgia, tranquility, and tipsy glee floating in on the breeze. Nobody quite feels like going home yet, so you and your friends seek out an after–dinner treat. You’re approaching the corner of 7th and Christian streets when you first catch sight of that familiar beacon of bright red, white, and green, jutting proudly into the pink sunset. You begin to salivate. You can practically taste the sweet, sultry mango flavor on your tongue, cold and crystalline and more refreshing than it has any right to be. It’s the taste of summer. It’s exactly what you need.
Techno was born free—but everywhere it lies in chains. Electronic music today has largely come to be associated with the blistering heat and piercing lights of the rave hall, the occasional ambient track playing in the background of the airport lounge, or bizarre moments such as David Guetta including a Martin Luther King Jr. sample in one of his beat drops. This picture is not so much incorrect as it is incomplete. The ravers and David Guettas of the world have just as much a claim to electronic music as anyone else—but their close connection with the genre has come to obscure its past as both a mirror of society and a site of resistance. Nowhere was the genre’s role clearer than in Germany at the end of WWII.
If you were on X (formerly and fondly remembered as Twitter) in the late 2010s, there’s a good chance that you’ve seen the phrase “Stan LOONA” attached with a LOONA music video under any pop culture tweet, imploring them to discover the 12–member girl group. Translating to “Girl of the Month” in Korean, LOONA immediately captivated audiences with their detailed storytelling, diligent work ethic, and dedication to their loyal fans, Orbits.
"I don’t know how Emily does all of that shit." If you talk to any one of Emily Huynh’s (C '24) friends about her, that's a phrase you're bound to hear within the first few minutes of conversation. And after speaking with her for less than an hour, I was wondering the exact same thing.
A few inches away from a dumpster in a parking lot sit half a dozen people, their legs hanging over a hole they’ve been digging for the last week. It’s a motley crew. An undergrad student works in sync with a Ph.D. who’s decked out in round glasses and a safari hat to clear away the dirt with brushes and spades. A professor helps an older woman get up after her legs fall asleep while digging in the pit. A mom and her 13–year–old son can hardly contain their excitement when they find a broken glass bottle.
Emily Maroni is always thinking about death. No, not in an emo sort of way—a profound and curious one. Emily's approach seeks to change perspectives surrounding traditional funerals by advocating for natural burial practices.
As September draws to a close, an exciting buzz permeates Philly’s air. But it’s not the usual energy: the rowdy Eagles fans are joined by German lager–drinkers and curry–wurst eaters. Wafts of sauerkraut and sizzling bratwurst replace fried onions and skirt steak. As evidenced by the crowds dressed in dirndls and lederhosen, Oktoberfest, one of Germany’s most coveted events, has made its way to Philly.
About a month ago, creators took to TikTok to parody a video of a couple, Lilianna Wilde and Sean Kolar, demonstrating what they called a “love surge.” In this video, which opened with Wilde asking viewers if they “wanna see the cringiest most coupley thing ever,” she animatedly explained that a love surge happens when the couple has “so much love in our limbs that we can’t contain it and feel like we’re gonna explode.” Meanwhile, Kolar stood behind her, shaking and bouncing up and down. When she gave him the cue, telling the audience that “he’s gonna wrap around me and shake with the electricity of love,” Kolar did just that: he, wearing a large grin and letting out a breath, hugged her, sharing the shaking sensation with his girlfriend. They then “explode with a love surge,” in which they both reach up, as if in a stretch.
Take a look at any bookshelf in a public library, think back to what you read at school, and look at a list of award–winning writers. How many books written by women do you see?
This summer, starting June 5th, just as in eight summers before, the U.K. reality TV show, Love Island, sent numerous single guys and girls to Mallorca, Spain where they would live with each other and work to form romantic connections. As in previous summers, different versions of the show premiered in other countries such as the U.S., France, and Australia. At almost any point during this summer, you could go online and find pages upon pages of discourse surrounding the show, its characters, and its various international spin–offs. And yet, despite Love Island's attempt at recreating its original hype from its first run, the show did not achieve nearly the same results this time around.
Unlike its predecessor, the latest cinematic fight club features no pink soap, no toxic masculinity, and certainly no rules banning the discussion of fight club. In fact, leaders PJ and Josie are begging you to talk about their fight club, and please, bring all your hot cheerleader friends.
Mya Gordon (C ‘24) is emotionally attached to the black squirrel by Houston Hall and the turtles at the BioPond. It makes sense, given the fact that Mya is constantly invested in the community around her—whether she’s volunteering in the West Philly community or going on a spontaneous walk to explore her surroundings. In the midst of sleepless nights applying for grad school, Mya offered us a sneak peek of her past four years at Penn, reminding us to seek joy wherever we go. Before riding away on her baby blue bicycle, Mya tied up her pants with a hair tie so they wouldn’t catch in the gears and headed off on her next adventure.
"I think everyone had something that they were really, really drawn to as a kid. For me, that was jewelry,” Tina Zhang (W ‘25) says. Tina’s jewelry–making journey began on her ninth birthday when she ventured over to the crafting section of Walmart and picked out a little case of beads and a pair of pliers. Ever since, Tina has continued to use those same pliers to craft one–of–a–kind necklaces and earrings.
Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson: "I have the traps of a wrestler, like a man wrestler."
Senior year is canonical. You have the senior slide, the cataclysmic breakdown of some friend groups, and the forging of new bonds that feel like they could last forever. A deluge of camaraderie and legally purchased liquor can melt some (but not all) of the grudges powered by the treacherous climb of student leadership and, of course, the toxic gossip train. But for me, senior year mostly means one thing: I’m not the young talent anymore.
If you reach into the depths of your brain, back to the fuzzy memories of your 10–year–old self, do you remember your favorite elementary school teacher?
I grew up in a household where threads and crochet needles were omnipresent—nestled in the creases of the sofa, strewn across the kitchen table, and even making their way into the bedrooms. My mother is a natural crocheter. Over the years, I've carried her crochet legacy with me, even during my time at Penn. Her work has served multiple purposes in my life, from bikini tops on family vacations to protective crochet Kindle cases and cozy rugs for my dorm.
Street: Is there anything different about this [North American] tour that allowed you to be able to write more?