Street in the Late 2000s: Gossip and the Great Recession
Julia Rubin was Editor–in–Chief from January 2009 to December 2009.
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Julia Rubin was Editor–in–Chief from January 2009 to December 2009.
Standing in the boutique that bears her name, Joan Shepp explains this among racks of Ann Demeulemeester tailored jumpsuits and Rick Owens draped jackets. Her glasses are perched on top of her curly auburn mop, and her striking blue eyes are smiling. “Some people have natural style,” she says. “It matches their lifestyle. It’s how they live, how they dress.”
There is something deliciously ironic about the I. Goldberg Army and Navy store, namely that it is — of all things — a hipster’s paradise. Sure, hipsters may decry being labeled as such, but could they deny a $12 neon orange sweatshirt?
At Penn, weekends are more than just a reprieve from a stressful week of classes, midterms and the like. For many, they start on Thursdays and are filled with busy days and boozy nights. As such, weekend brunches do double duty as a time to recap said nights while feeling productive (well, socially at least) during the day.
When I was a not-so-rebellious preteen, MTV was the coolest. My dad introduced me to The Real World and Spring Break, but it was the music videos that really got me. As an aspiring music snob and wannabe aesthete, music videos were the perfect marriage of sound and sight.
You know that Ego of the Week question, “There are two types of people at Penn …”? Well, after a little social experiment I took part in these past couple of weeks, I would divide Penn into BlackBerry users and everyone else.
This is my last editor’s letter. Ever. Even though Street is printing next week, by then the new board will have taken over and I will be completely washed up. I have been involved with Street since the first week of my freshman year, and now I will be unceremoniously cut loose. And I am freaking out about it.
Oh, Shoutouts, you are a fickle mistress. Some people think you are too mean. Some people think you are too tame. Sometimes you ruin lives. Sometimes you enhance them immeasurably. One time the Inquirer wrote an article about you, but they just didn’t get it. Shoutouts, for better or worse, you are Penn.
Last week I attended my first preceptorial ever. It’s not that I hadn’t wanted to go to one before this semester, but rather I was systematically shut out of every cheese-tasting, Barnes Foundation-going, ceramics-learning preceptorial imaginable for the past six semesters. So when I got into Food Cart Culture this fall (off the waitlist, no less), I was excited. A class about food carts, without exams or grades, surrounded by other cart obsessees? Awesome. Only it wasn’t.
I love steamed pork buns. They are my favorite food of all time. I had my first pork bun at New York's bun mecca, Momofuku, a few years ago, and I was instantly hooked. The pork in question is spiced, diced and delicious, whereas the bun is soft and fluffy. Seriously amazing stuff.
However paradoxical it may seem, college has made me and my friends much less crazy, at least as far as school is concerned. In high school, we were those kids who graduated in the top 10 of their class and would fight for that extra half point on their AP Chem test. And now? Not so much.
Tomorrow is my 22nd birthday. This is officially a non-exciting birthday. Who cares about 22? Nobody. To make myself feel better about 22, I will share with you the highlights of my Big Birthdays from the past decade:
Thanks to three consecutive midterms, I ended up spending Fall Break in Philly. I don’t even know if it could be called a break (how Penn thinks that canceling Monday’s classes constitutes a vacation is beyond me), but it did allow for some quality time with my equally midterm-challenged roommates. One night we even managed to tear ourselves away from our procrastinating and head to the Bridge.
For all of you non-journalism nerds, I apologize for the next 300 words, in which I will proceed to totally geek out. Most of you probably don’t know this, but last weekend the Daily Pennsylvanian celebrated its 125th anniversary (for reference, 34th Street is a relatively youthful 41 years old). 125 years! That is obscene. And awesome.
Ten years ago, Joan Shepp single-handedly redefined how Philadelphians think about style. A decade later, her Walnut Street boutique stands as a model for luxury retailers.
I went to my first Penn party the January of my senior of high school. Fresh off the high of my early admittance, I visited a friend from home who was a freshman living in the Quad, and took in all of Penn’s earthly delights. And that’s when I heard it — the one song that would play at every single party I would attend from there on out. Yes, on that most fateful of nights, I heard “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey: the song I hate to love.
As humans, we are all driven by fear: fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of insignificance. But we college students (or, at least, we Penn students) are driven by another type of fear: the fear of missing out. My friend Daniella introduced me to the concept (FOMO, as she calls it) a couple of years ago, and it’s grip on me has only grown stronger since. Plus that whole "being a senior" thing is freaking me out a bit.
About three years ago, Pinkberry — the LA-based purveyor of tart frozen yogurt — made its move east and subsequently inspired countless imitators. Surprisingly, Philadelphia was slow to the trend, opening up its first fro-yo spot, Phileo, only a year ago. Just last week, Sprinkles became Penn’s long overdue answer to the fro-yo craze.
Let’s be real: freshmen are on the bottom of the food chain. Most arrive at Penn without any friends, some have to live sans AC in Hill and pretty much none can get into Smoke’s. The first semester of school is spent navigating Penn’s bizarre social terrain while not completely destroying your GPA (or liver) before January. You get homesick and want to go home. You get sick sick and want to go home.
One of the best things about Penn is its Philadelphia locale, and one of the best things about Philadelphia is its food. But, as Street has told you time and again, one need not venture into Center City for a good meal — West Philly is full of culinary delights.
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