I decided that on Friday I needed some time to myself and my parasocial friends who are spending their summer in Fiji on Love Island. I had one last meal from the three that Goop Kitchen had sent me for signing up for updates on their Williamsburg location, a fresh Cafe Panna pint in the freezer, and hours worth of horrible (non-derogatory) television to watch.

As soon as I got comfortable—I didn’t think things could get better—a crack of thunder boomed throughout the Lower East Side, and the familiar patter of heavy raindrops hit my AC unit. It was the first night all week I had to myself between plans with friends and Knicks games to watch, and I couldn’t believe the universe was rewarding me with the best staying-in-weather in the world: a summer thunderstorm.

Everyone saying that Love Island USA is bad this season needs to practice patience. We’re two weeks into a long summer. This show is the definition of a marathon and not a sprint. We must give people like Corbin the benefit of the doubt, no matter how difficult he makes that for us.

On Saturday morning, I went to my first pottery session in a while. I decided to cancel my membership this month, and as sad as it is, I felt like I was going into overdrive in terms of creativity between my day job, this Substack, the book I’m working on, and something had to go. This last month is going to be focused on wrapping up projects and trying out anything I haven’t yet, and by the time it ends in the middle of July, I’ll be preparing for my summer travels anyway.

Pottery for me is like riding a bike. It’s more muscle intensive than people realize, but the benefit of that is the memory that’s created from repetition and practice. I will admit that once I got back on the wheel, I slightly regretted cancelling my membership because I remembered how much I love it. Life is hopefully long, and hobbies are supposed to be fun, not laborious. When it started to feel like a job is when I realized maybe I didn’t have the luxury of time to enjoy things like that, and that taking a step back doesn’t have to be permanent. Over the last 10 months I’ve made enough pieces to stock a Pottery Barn, so if you want something, let me know.

As discussed at length on Friday, the heat has been very difficult for me. Saturday is when I realized I needed to toughen up and embrace the summer, so I tossed on my Kith Women Halter Active Dress and headed for a spritz with my friend Jess at Bar Bianchi.

Bar Bianchi is one of those places that I think poorly of due to how fast it turned so cheesy. I went the first day it opened with my mom and sister and thought it was great, but it soon started to attract a crowd that I pretentiously don’t want to be a part of (interns, Utah Curl wearers, etc.) I will admit that I need to relax and not take myself so seriously. I’m not sure why I think I’m better than anyone else when it all boils down to a giant fishbowl of vodka and sparkling wine and Italian aperitivos. All was proven when I texted Jess:

As I always say—no need to reinvent the wheel.

I’m afraid of getting hit for saying this, but I was a little Knicked out by the time Saturday rolled around. I had gotten reservations for my friends on Monday and Wednesday, both at Half Pint, both mentally and physically exhausting, and I wasn’t necessarily longing to do that all over again on the most popular night of the week anyway. If you ever wanted to go to a restaurant that’s been on your list for a while, Saturday was the day. Everything was wide open since the majority of the city was in fact watching the game. Eliza and I ended up at an ole reliable for us, American Bar, at my favorite time, 9 PM.

I got this dress from the Urban Outfitters clearance section in I think high school, and speaking of ole reliables, it’s the ultimate (linked similar here). I paired it with Hugo Boss heels that were my mom’s when she was my age and worked there (linked similar), and my new Bottega Veneta clutch (linked similar) that feels like carrying a football around in the best way.

American Bar is great because of a lot of reasons. The martinis are all incredible, they have the best dinner salad in the city, and there’s always a pretty good crowd. With the exception of Saturday when the Knicks were inevitably going to win the championship, but the fact that Meredith and Seth Marks walked in and sat next to us about an hour into our meal was enough to set the vibe.

For some reason, I thought that we would be able to watch the game at Forgetmenot. Dimes Square was basically Times Square on New Years Eve. I saw Terrence O’Connor, Alana Haim, Brenda Hashtag, Isaac Likes, and about ten people from the Substack community alone when trying to find a view of any of the projected screens on Canal Street. We ended up in front of Bacaro for the big win, which admittedly, was a really amazing experience.

This weekend was all about doing things I hadn’t done in a while, which includes going to Soho and hot yoga, both of which were interesting choices given my list of complaints recently. My father doesn’t read this, so I feel in the clear telling you that we got him these Lululemon shorts and this sweat towel for Father’s Day. If I didn’t sweat enough in that endeavor, there is definitely no pornstar martini left in my bloodstream after yoga.

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This past winter in New York pushed us all to the brink. The fact that we still had 40 degree mornings in May, and I had put away, taken out, and then put back away, and then taken back out my North Face puffer after Easter was enough for me to warmly welcome the summer and everything it brings with it—

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A restaurant like Hillstone is my favorite. I love classic American fare, great service, and most importantly, incredibly rich foods such as spinach and artichoke dip and and a crispy chicken sandwich. Because of this, I woke up on Friday and chose to fast until the 2:30 reservation I had. A Hillstone reservation should not go to waste, and to waste it would not.

Before Hillstone, I enjoyed my first Summer Friday of 2026, as noted in Friday Saturday’s post:

I woke up early and worked out, cleaned my apartment, and then headed out to get a haircut from Brittany at Jenna Perry Hair. I used to get $40 haircuts straight across the bottom, but I decided that part of becoming a woman was investing in your hair, which I don’t do much of because I’ve never dyed it. Brittany basically hosted my bat mitzvah in the chair, told me that while my hair was beautiful, it was a little girlish, and long layers would do a lot of favors for me.

If you’re a girl, you know that the word “layers” can be really scary. Historically, layers have done me really dirty. I got some sort of a layered bob right before transferring colleges, I’ve had chunks of hair missing that was supposed to be “angled front pieces”, and I’ve been overall botched more often than not. Brittany’s confidence in how good this would look was enough for me to trust her, and it resulted in the best haircut of my life.

I had plans on Friday night to celebrate my dear friend Tommy’s birthday, which was great because I love Tommy and want to celebrate him, but I can also show off my new haircut fresh out of the chair and in public. We went to FourFiveSix in Williamsburg, sat outside and had some cosmos while watching the Knicks game, where I prompted many solicited compliments to which my friends kindly obliged.

The best part of the summer for me personally is waking up slightly hungover and watching the Love Island USA episode that you missed the night(s) before. When the first episode premiered on Tuesday, I felt overwhelmed for obvious reasons. Although I’m a LI veteran at this point in life, having watched multiple seasons of UK and USA, it’s still an incredibly daunting journey to start. However, it’s daunting until it’s not, and come Saturday when there’s no episode, you’ll find yourself missing your temporary summer family.

It’s really fun to see my friends watch Love Island for the first time.

There are so many rules and so much nuance to it. If your man doesn’t bring you breakfast, it’s over. If he does bring you breakfast but it’s just a plate of scrambled eggs and some toast, start pulling some other people for a chat. If he brings you a well-balanced plate of fruit, eggs, avocado toast, and pancakes, consider yourself engaged. All bets are off during challenges, you can kiss anyone and do anything with no hard feelings (at least it should be), and your favorite person will become your least favorite in the span of a night.

It’s truly such a magical show that brings immense joy to my summer. It’s so incredibly stupid, but so incredibly important in helping my ability to turn my brain off after a long day at work, and just watch hot people make mistakes in love over and over again, trapped in a giant villa in Fiji.

Continuing my weekend of fabulous eating, my sister and I are getting Sunday dinner at EJ’s Luncheonette, one of the top 3 places that TikTok has ruined for those of us who have loved it long before it went viral. I will absolutely be getting a chocolate milkshake and then we’ll build the rest of the meal from there.

I’m very scared for the third and final part of the Summer House reunion on Tuesday, sandwiched in between two very important basketball games for New Yorkers. I made reservations for my friends to watch on both Monday and Wednesday, so I’m expecting my friends to show up with some sort of trophy that states I’m the best reservation-maker on the planet (kidding 💋).

If you’re looking for somewhere to watch the game, I have a few recs here. They’re mostly chill where you can enjoy yourself, take a seat, and not be afraid of being elbowed by someone from Long Island.

• Bar Oliver in Two Bridges, I watched the game here last Wednesday and it was lively yet lovely

• Half Pint in the West Village, they had some open reservations left when I looked

• Forgetmenot in the Lower East Side, this will probably be pretty rowdy but a cool crowd nonetheless

• Le Dive in the Lower East Side, I walked past on my way home on Wednesday and they had their huge TV up inside

• Grand Street Pizza in the Lower East Side, they had a truck they were projecting the game onto on Wednesday and the pizza is phenomenal.

The truth is, nothing is going to be chill this week. I just read a NYT article that the MSG watch party on Friday led to dozens of arrests, and on my little street with no bars for a few blocks, there was hooting and hollering after Wednesday’s win. We’re surely in for it, New Yorkers.

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We’ve got two built-in Summer Fridays with Juneteenth and the Fourth of July. I personally get 5 free PTO days from Memorial Day to Labor Day, only eligible to use on Fridays in that timeframe. Each mid-July Friday in office feels like the longest day of my life, however each day off feels like a beautiful gift. With office holidays combined with my Summer Fridays, I’ll have a total of seven Fridays to myself out of the fifteen that the calendar holds, batting at about 46%. I’ll take it!

Obviously I’m using some of that for vacation and time with my family, but there are a few (such as today, June 5th) that I’ve taken for myself to enjoy with no plans, right here in Manhattan (and still Williamsburg, just for tonight).

If you’re as lucky as I am, you may be wondering how to fill all of this time, especially if your friends are chained to their desks. Here’s how I plan on spending the days, along with some other stuff I think you guys may enjoy as well.

MORNING:

I like to sleep in on the days that I have off like the rest of the universe, however on a day such as today, I woke up at 7:45. I caught up on some texts, paid off my credit card bills since I got paid last night, and headed off to the gym. If I were to cheat on Equinox with a fun workout class, I would probably do BodyRok, Fuze House, or some sort of yoga.

Usually, I drink coffee after I work out, unless I work out at like 11 or 12. I’ve been making coffee at home more recently with Chobani Cookie Dough or Hazelnut creamer, but if I go out to coffee, here are my picks:

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I’m lucky to have a sister who is also my best friend. Our three year age gap feels smaller and smaller the older we get, and now that we’re both young, working women in the greatest city in the world, she’s my favorite person to spend time with.

I try to force her to hang out with me at least once a week. This tends to occur in her neck of the woods, which is Yorkville, aka north of 80th Street and east of Park Ave, not to dox her. The weekends are so lovely up there, and it’s nice for me to take a 90-block vacation every once in a while.

This particular Sunday, we had planned to go on a walk in the park surrounding Gracie Mansion since I had never been, make a stop at the dog park, and then grab sandwiches from Milano Market. One of my favorite coffee shops of the moment is Casita of Brooklyn, to which has become our ceremonial first stop when we hang out. When I come up from the Q across the street and see Grace’s face in the window, waiting for her text to say that she sees me back, it’s the start of a beautiful day.

We embarked to the East River where I made my inaugural visit to (the outside of) Gracie Mansion. I didn’t realize the surrounding grounds were such a beautiful park that had pockets of silence and tranquility that’s rare to find in this city.

Then we headed to the dog park. As two dogless girls, we enjoy the spectator sport that is switching between the outside of the fence in both of the small and large dog areas, picking out our favorites and snapping pics to send to our friends. After multiple corgis (Gracie’s favorite), pugs, vizslas, and French bulldogs, we escorted ourselves out before the park rangers could and made our way over to Sukoshi, a Korean skincare store. I walked out with three snail mucus sheet masks and three soothing ones, one of which is on my face as I write this.

The line for Milano Market was long and to be frank, discouraging, but Grace decided that it wouldn’t be too bad to wait it out, which inevitably I was thankful for once I was sat in the plush green grass of Central Park, housing a caesar salad wrap, ravenous after getting our steps in.

Once our time together was nearing its end, I was starting to figure out what my next move was. It was a beautiful day, the weather was temperate, and I could use a few more steps. So, I decided to walk the entire 5 miles, approximately 98 city blocks, that separates my apartment from Grace’s.

My route was 1st Avenue to Avenue A to the three block radius of my home. I realized I hadn’t spent much time down 1st, let alone 98 blocks down it, and boy, did I see the sights. I saw Cole Escola on 60th, the UN, and a Nerf Gun bullet on 19th. All in all, the Apple Health App is telling me that it was 20,000 steps, which I’m disappointed and skeptical of. That’s double my daily average and my legs are aching, so not too bad at the end of the day.

I’m currently listening to London Falling: A Mysterious Death in a Gilded City and a Family’s Search for Truth by Patrick Keefe on audiobook, and reading the second Off Campus book on Kindle to wind down from finishing American Psycho last week. I watched the movie the night I finished, and was extremely underwhelmed. I felt like they missed the mark and had not followed the plot enough to draw in millions of men aged 18-30 in Manhattan and the surrounding boroughs alone, let alone the rest of the world.

I’m enjoying London Falling and it got me through probably 20 blocks. I’ve hit a part that’s dense in back story that I should save for tomorrow at work when I just need white noise. I’m enjoying Off Campus #2 even more, which I don’t think I need to explain why.

In terms of television, I started Summer House from the beginning in light of the tenth season coming to a close. I’ve made it to the middle of season four, where Carl has rejected Lindsay, Amanda and Kyle are engaged but that’s not the only rock they’re on, and Jordan is still lying to everyone. He’s obviously gay. Here I go outing someone on the first day of Pride Month.

Summer is in full swing whether the weather or the date wants to admit it or not. My personal calendar shows for it, and that’s all that matters to me. Summer is a feeling more than a season.

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Some days I’ll opt for something dark—a memoir of someone tortured or whatever latest beautifully haunting novel Ottessa Moshfegh has released, and some days I’ll download a breezy Kindle Unlimited romance.

For the last four-ish years, I’ve always been actively reading at least something. My goal this year is to hit 25 books, last year I believe I did 27. I consider reading not only a great escape during my lunch break or before bed, but also something that serves as great inspiration and research for someone, such as myself, who is an aspiring writer.

Summer is synonymous with reading. From middle school-issued summer reading lists to Obama, everyone is providing their two-cents on what you should be diving into, and I don’t mean bodies of water.

If you read Coffee Order, we probably have similar literary taste (give or take the military exposés or American Psycho). I aimed to provide something for everyone with these ten titles, and if you’re looking for more, you know where to find me.

Let’s get into it.

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1. Ask Not: The Kennedys and the Women They Destroyed by Maureen Callahan (non-fiction)

The Kennedys circled back into our front-page zeitgeist for a few reasons this year—RFK Jr., Love Story, Tatiana Schlossberg’s untimely and tragic death, and her brother, Jack Schlossberg, running for congress.

This is not the Kennedy story that any of us have been told as Americans for nearly a century. The seemingly prince-like boys that were JFK, RFK, and Teddy and their patriarch Joe, the men that built our modern country and their subsequent heirs, had closets full of the skeletons of women they’ve killed, assaulted, or ruined the lives of. Callahan does an intense deep dive and makes sure that each and every victim gets their story told. I’ve given this to two friends at this point and plan to keep it circulating. I would almost call it true crime, sadly.

2. Blue Sisters by Coco Mellors (fiction)

I’ve talked about this one a few times on here already. It is simply one of the most beautiful novels I’ve ever read. If you have a sister, it’s a must.

Avery, Bonnie, and Lucky are three sisters struggling with the loss of their fourth—Nicky—the sale of their childhood apartment, and three very different personal lives. Mellors does an incredible job showcasing just how complex sisters can be, and that although they may share the same roots, their experiences can be polar opposites. It was very enjoyable and had its funny moments despite how harsh that description was!

3. Gwyneth by Amy Odell (biography)

I know, I know. Can I go one singular week without mentioning my queen GP? This biography was a really fun read, I think I read half and listened to half of the audiobook which I also recommend—I did the same thing with Famesick by Lena Dunham which I will spare you any more discussion of.

Gwyneth Paltrow is a very complex celebrity. She is technically a nepo baby but doesn’t seem to have necessarily been given anything, she’s dated a lot of people in the public eye, and she’s worn many hats. She’s also, to put it plainly, peculiar and privileged and sometimes comes across as off-putting (not to me, of course). This is great for a light vacation or beach scenario that you want a little more deapth and reality for.

4. Flawless by Elsie Silver (fiction, KindleUnlimited)

Every once in a while, even the most pretentious of readers such as myself need to not take themselves so seriously. Elsie Silver has that pretty much on lock with anything she writes, but particularly the Flawless series.

Enemies to lovers, what more do I need to say. If you love a happy ending, Elsie’s got you. For the grown-up fanfiction girlies, the Hallmark movie moms, and everyone in between, you’ll probably finish this in one day.

5. The Fran Lebowitz Reader (non-fiction essays)

I debated on putting this on here because I felt like a performative young man sitting outside alone at Clandestino, trying to hook-line-and-sinker a girl such as myself into talking to him. However, I am a product of my environment.

Fran sees the world in such a special way. You will laugh out loud and also find yourself reflecting on some of the most serious moments of your life with a new perspective. While some of the material was written fifty years ago, it still rings true, which gives me a sense of comfort knowing that some things really do just stay the same.

6. 10% Happier by Dan Harris (self help)

This book found me, accidentally, when I needed it most. It is absolutely not the type of content I would normally digest, but I’m very thankful I did, and nearly two years later I still implement practices taught to me by Dan on a daily basis.

Dan Harris shares his journey to mindfulness, meditation, and taking a beat after a series of panic attacks, one on air while he was hosting Good Morning America. Harris candidly shares how he was skeptical of meditation and mindfulness and goes through what it took for him to finally give it a chance, which I could relate to deeply. If you’re interested in getting into something like meditation, this is an amazing book with none of the “woo-woo”.

7. The Fort Bragg Cartel: Drug Trafficking and Murder in the Special Forces by Seth Harp (non-fiction, exposé)

I had listened to Seth Harp on the Armchair Expert podcast, which only took about 20 minutes of the conversation to convince me that I needed to read his full book.

Harp dives deep into the underbelly of the beast that is a very elusive, secretive part of our country—misconduct by soldiers at the highest rank and of the most dangerous missions. I could not believe my eyes to what I was reading, it was shocking, disturbing, and left me wondering how nobody is doing anything about this. That led to a deeper question—should anyone do anything about this? Who would replace these guys if we took them down, the people responsible for our freedom? It’s a very strange feeling to have as someone with my views, let alone any views. There are some scary and triggering topics in here, but I do think it’s an important read if you’re into a long-form investigation.

8. Strangers: A Memoir of Marriage by Belle Burden (memoir)

I wanted to give this book a standing ovation upon finishing it, but I feel even more compelled to publicly declare what it was that made me love it so much because there have been a few hit pieces trying to discredit my girl Belle.

Belle Burden was married for twenty years with three children when one night, during the pandemic in their family home on Martha’s Vineyard, she got a call from a man who said his wife was having an affair with her husband. Subsequently, her husband left her in basically the dead of night with no answers, leaving a mess in his wake and a broken partner left to pick up the pieces.

Burden comes from immense wealth and privilege. Her grandmother was socialite Babe Paley, and her mother Amanda Burden, a principle at Bloomberg and successful city planner. A big portion of this book surrounds their pre-nup, to which outlets such as The New Yorker have launched opinion pieces on. The reality is that this story far surpasses the financial aspect, to which the author was immensely transparent about. I’ll shut up and leave you to decide.

9. Wild Side by Elsie Hill (fiction, KindleUnlimited)

A double feature for Elsie Hill! I have a soft spot for characters named Rhys after A Court of Thorns and Roses, which I had finished not long before I started this.

Another one of those cheesy romances that I discussed above. What else are you supposed to read on the beach?

10. The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides (non-fiction, thriller)

I’m sure many of you have read this, but it’s come to my attention that a few people in my life have not, and this also fills the void of the suspenseful, mind-twisting option that this list was acting. What a way to close it out.

Alicia is a famous painter married to an esteemed fashion photographer. One evening, her husband returns home late from a fashion shoot, and Alicia shoots him five times in the face, is subsequently held in a medical prison, and remains silent, forever. Her case spreads like wildfire across the country, the price of her art skyrockets, and her therapist becomes enamored with this story, trying to figure out who Alicia is and why she did it. I promise, you will not see the ending coming.

I will leave you with how I wrote this post—crouched in front of my fireplace full of books:

TODAY’S COFFEE ON COFFEE ORDER GOES TO: SETH!

This is immensely appropriate because Seth is one of the most, if not the most, tenacious reader I know with a very individual taste. Thanks for supporting, Seth!

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This surely does not feel like the official start to summer. I have a chill I can’t shake, there’s no chance I’m going outside until tomorrow, and there’s simply nothing else to do besides SHOP!

MDW serves some of the biggest sales of the year, a bunch of them kicking off last week to continue into the next. Furniture, clothes, makeup, you name it, thousands of brands are over 50% off. And guess who went through them all for you—ME! You’re welcome.

I asked on Instagram for specific things you guys are looking for so that this could be actually useful instead of a hodgepodge of links. I’m going to toss in some unrequested items as well, things you didn’t know you needed until you clicked it…that sort of stuff.

Let’s get to it.

EVERYTHING LISTED BELOW IS LINKED HERE

SHOES

Instagram requests are italicized.

• Breathable flats: my friend Grace wore these to drinks last night from Rothy’s and I thought they were adorable, you also can’t really tell they’re Rothy’s which is great. 25% off $159

• Pre-Owned Chanel Ballet Flats: The Real Real is basically giving stuff out for free these days. I am kind of obsessed with these Karl Lagerfeld Metallic Flats that are 50% off on Thred Up. Not Chanel but in the family.

• Summer sandal that can be dressed up or down, heel or flat: Favorite Daughter is 25% off select styles this weekend and has extremely comfortable yet chic and sleek sandals. I’m obsessed with this wedged, heeled thong, these flat slides that you can toss on, and this little kitten heel flip flop for something in between.

• Jelly shoes: long live the jelly guys. I don’t think they’re out of style yet. Steve Madden is 30% off select styles and he’s one of those people who the saying if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it applies to. His shoes will always just be great, reliable, and comfortable.

• Summer loafers: I prefer loafers with no hardware for the summer and a thinner leather, not shiny. Perhaps a driving shoe of sorts. Circling back to Favorite Daughter because I can personally attest that these are fantastic, I wore them for like 10 hours straight, and again, 25% off.

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Furniture:

• Media console: Article is up to 40% off select styles and I feel like this black wood console is not only perfect for the person who requested this (you know who you are) but also looks like it could be double the price it actually is. If you prefer to use your console as both a TV stand and storage as most people in NYC do, I’d opt for this gorgeous, glossy lacquered one from CB2 for under $600.

• Dressers: The plight of the dresser is a battle I have never come out on the other end of. It’s genuinely really difficult to find one that fits the space, looks good, and works well. You can’t spell Memorial Day without Pottery Barn. I feel so adult even on their website. If you don’t have much horizontal space, I’ve never minded the look of a vertical dresser like this one that’s a little over $500.

• Side table / music stand: I saw this while looking for the above dresser and found it to be really chic and again, something that looks way more expensive than it is. I’m not into records, so I would use this for books or magazines and then use the surface as an end table. Urban Outfitters is up to 50% off all categories.

• Rugs: is a rug decor or furniture? Anywho. Ruggable should genuinely be paying me for how often I recommend them. They’re up to 70% OFF AND buy-one-get-one 50% off. I have a cheetah print one because, duh, but this striped one is very calming to me.

Decor:

• I need a cute ass butter dish: this is a quite adorable little cottage-core moment from Anthropologie, which similar to its sister, Urban Outfitters, is really hitting the gas on the discounts. If you’re not into the trad of it all, this blue dotted one from Target is tres chic.

• Throw pillows: Anthropologie and Urban Outfitters are typically my go-to for cute pillows in the bedroom or living room. I love this kiwi-inspired green one, this gorgeous fringe one from Crate&Barrel, and this very adorable kitschy one from west elm

• Curtains: I have these little half “cafe” curtains in my bedroom window that allow some privacy while catching the light in just the right way. This ruffled set from Urban is very romantic and girly.

• What should I get someone for their engagement? Mark & Graham are my go-to for personalized, great quality gifts, and they’re up to 60% off this weekend. This leather photo catchall is very elevated and sweet, same with this engraved silver tray, as is this leather cocktail set.

This was the most time I’ve spent on Coffee Order in a while, it took me a few hours to source and link so I hope you all enjoyed! If you need anything else, you can always ask me on Instagram.

Other than shopping, this weekend has been spent in my bed, at bars I grew up going to, and at Puppy Yoga, which is something I need to do more often.

It’s a sick joke that come Tuesday the weather is going to clear up, and come next Saturday, rain all over again. Maybe one day it will feel like summer again, a day that I don’t have to be behind a desk.

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In a period of time where it drops 30 degrees overnight, we may not realize it, but our bodies are left reeling. My skin freaks out, my muscles are fatigued, and don’t even get me started on my hair in the humidity.

If you follow me on Instagram, you would know that I use a lot of different types of beauty gadgets and treatments on a daily basis. I often get questions on what I use, if you should be using it, and where to get things such as skincare, bodycare, etc.

The summer and the winter are the hardest months to keep up with personal care. Everyone is beautiful period, but we’re the most beautiful in the temperate months, when you’re not sweating from places you didn’t know existed or your skin is cracking from the harsh below-freezing winds.

Have no fear, Coffee Order is here! And you’re in luck, because I spend a lot of money on making myself look decent. I’m going to break down things I swear by, things worth splurging, and things I want to try but haven’t had the chance to yet. These are for men too, so don’t go anywhere boys! I’d also like to shout out my dear Emma, a bride to be and my freshman year roommate, who asked for a guide to getting bride ready from little ole me. Emma, this is for you!

SKIN & FACE

As you can see with your own two retinas, I have a very fair complexion. I don’t take sun anymore on my face during the summer but will occasionally expose my body, ensuring that I get a skin check with my dermatologist come September. I also am acne-prone, feeling as though I’ve finally conquered that chapter (and ignoring the cystic pimple on my cheek that appeared last night). This does make me casually qualified to give advice re: the skin barrier.

I also don’t subscribe to a long routine anymore. I use three products at night and three in the morning, a few more if I want to look presentable at work. The 8-step skincare routine is dead, we all realized there was no need to reinvent the wheel. And thank god for that.

Products:

• Sonsie cleaning mousse: thank you, Pam. So light, but leaves your face feeling squeaky clean. Also great for waking you up in the morning. This is my everyday cleanser.

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All five boroughs (and beyond) are basically crawling to Memorial Day. I can taste the Summer Fridays and 9 PM sunsets. It’s been a long, cold spring, full of rainy Saturdays and cloudy Sundays. I’ve had to wear a jacket far longer than I’ve liked. Enough was enough.

On Friday night, I was itching to just get out of the house for a little bit, nothing crazy. I met my friends Grace and Gabby out at Bar Snack, where we were blessed with a table on the sidewalk and got Woodford Reserve (bourbon) confused with Wölffer Estate (wine). I had a pickled mezcal margarita which was interesting, another drink with approximately 100g of sugar, and a martini that I did not need, before retiring home at 9:45 PM, with a pit stop at McDonald’s along the way.

Saturday, my friends and I had plans to meet at Maiden Lane for some drinking in the afternoon—something I don’t usually love to do, but the weather was 78 and sunny for the first time all year, and I was looking forward to soaking it all up. I had stopped by Brooke Callahan’s pop-up on Thursday night and got this new skirt that I wanted to wear:

I sat in Tompkins for a little so that I could get through some more of American Psycho, a book that I’m enjoying a lot but is a quest to get through, before heading up to Maiden Lane to grab a table outside. Getting a table at a place like that on a day like Saturday takes strong attention skills, commitment, stealth, and most importantly, luck. As soon as I got there some people were leaving, so I camped out with a cider and staged the chairs next to me to make it seem like my friends were already there before the fun really got started. A real bonus of the afternoon was that there was a nearby corgi meet-up.

I headed home in the early evening because I had a big night ahead. My friend Nicholson lives a glamorous life, and he invited me as his plus-one to the Gucci Cruise after party. Obviously, this was an outfit challenge that I felt amply underprepared for, until I remembered that if it was a room with me, Alix Earle, and Devon Lee Carlson, I could wear whatever I want because ain’t nobody lookin’. I also remembered that I got one of the best bags at the Kering sample sale last year, and that a party that started at 11:30 wasn’t exactly a fashion show.

I ended up wearing a vintage slip dress that I had gotten at Stella Dallas when I first moved to the city and these Favorite Daughter heels that look like they could be Saint Laurent. I put eyeliner around my eyes and then rubbed them with my fingers, slicked my hair back, and told myself that I couldn’t be weird to Camille Rowe if I saw her (which I did, 30 seconds after walking in) before meeting Nicholson at our favorite neighborhood bar, Treasure Club.

The Gucci party was very exciting. I’m still on the hunt for the flash photography pictures of myself dancing with Alix Earle in the basement of the mansion they converted into a nightclub, so if you see them, send them to me. It was an odd (positive) feeling to be around people I look up to so much—Camille, Devon Lee Carlson, Gabriette, etc., and realize that we’re all just gals at the same Gucci party. Some more invited than others…

Nicholson and I always have a “ki”, but Saturday night was particularly hilarious. We ran around in towels that had Gucci Mansion embroidery that we stole from the Gucci gym, drinking champagne, me acting as his shadow as he mingled with his comrades in arts. After talking to his boss for too long and realizing I had a towel tied around my waist, I decided that this Downtown Girl was ready to leave her Uptown fairytale for the night. I tried to bring the towel home but security acted like I was trying to make out like a bandit with some Gucci jewels or something and demanded it back. I’m just glad that didn’t happen in front of Tom Brady.

I knew Sunday morning was going to be a little bit rough, but the risk was worth the reward of the night before. I had also forgotten how miserable being hungover can be when it’s above 80 degrees and the sun is beating down on you relentlessly. I had felt as though my outside time for the weekend had been maxed out on Saturday, and after putzing around Trader Joe’s without any clear path or direction, I planted myself on the couch, tried to find those pics of me and my new friend Alix, and binged the first season of Summer House.

Monday, as you’re reading this, is basically Summer Eve. This entire week is. We’re 7 short days from the official start of the best time to be in New York, the best time to be on the East Coast, and the best time to be a young gal in your 20s, having a good time that falls somewhere in the middle of the Hannah Horvath to Carrie Bradshaw scheme. Sometimes it feels like the days are too long (especially on a day like I’m having), but the weekends will give you whiplash.

Let me know if anyone has anything specific they’d like to read here this summer. I’ll always keep you abreast on what to do, see, eat, drink…wear…during this beautiful time of year.

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This is obviously more lucrative, unless you’re the girl who wrote After. I’d love to watch a Netflix documentary about the success anonymous FanFic writers from 2010-2020, but if I were a betting woman, I’d stick with my first point.

I tell people that I’m a writer in most circumstances, especially because I have some bylines with GQ from a few years ago that I’m hanging onto and more than 10 paid subscribers on here, which by my standards, is a lot. The circumstances in which I code switch back to a COPYwriter are when I don’t feel like lying (is it lying?) or am lacking the blind confidence of something like eyeliner to will me past the crippling feeling of being a pick-me.

So we just met, maybe at a birthday party of someone I went to college with or we’re on a first date. I’m wearing eyeliner but no mascara, a thing I’m doing now, and I tell you I’m a writer. You say woah, that’s really cool. What do you write?

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The Chloé Phantom, the Chanel Boy Bag, the Fendi Baguette, the Balenciaga City Bag, the Gucci Marmont. All of these held court for a period of time, ranging from a few months to even a few years, before fading out and finding itself creeping deeper and deeper into the back of fashion blogger-turned-influencer’s closets.

I don’t subscribe to the idea of a “trending” bag. I wear whatever looks good with my outfit. I don’t have disposable income to spend on a $3000 handbag, and any bags I do have are extremely special to me and hold more than just my belongings—they hold sentimental value. A trip to Paris and London with my mom, my 21st birthday, my first sample sale.

While I may not subscribe, it’s clear that it exists. There’s a lot of anti-bag discourse right now that I find interesting. People are questioning the quality of these bags as the prices spike, wondering why the same silhouette two years ago cost $500-1000 less.

There are a few answers—inflation in the cost of materials and manufacturing, Dakota Johnson was photographed wearing it last weekend, Balenciaga skyrockets into the #1 brand seed, the internet is doing a mass Sex and the City rewatch, etc.

One of the biggest victims of this inflation is the Hermès Birkin.

If you don’t know what a Birkin is, it’s a top-handle leather bag from the French couture house Hermès. It is only available via appointment with an Hermès salesperson that you’ve fostered a relationship with—at least, it used to be—and ranges anywhere from $10,000 to $500,000 depending on the rarity of the leather (cow to ostrich), the size, and the quantity produced. The name pays homage to Jane Birkin, who was the muse for Hermès to create the bag and was given the first iteration ever, which recently sold at auction for $10.1M.

Women of a certain ilk used to spend their entire privileged, adult lives trying to get a Birkin. I remember when on the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, other women keeled over in power every time Kyle Richards walked into the room with a Birkin on her arm. I remember when Kanye gifted Kim a Birkin that North had drawn all over for her birthday, and I remember when Kim got kancelled for posting her Birkin that was made of elephant skin.

Birkins were selective. They were extremely difficult to acquire, at the mercy of a salesperson to decide whether or not you’re worthy enough to be in this exclusive club of bag-holders. Once you got one, it was a symbol that you could afford to carry $25,000 on your wrist. Your kids were in college and successful, your house was paid for, your car, your vacations. Now, it was time to get a little obnoxious.

I first started to notice the downfall of the Birkin when Walmart made a knockoff. In fashion school, we were taught that knockoffs did not put a brand in danger because they did not share the same customer as the knockoff, therefore the segment wasn’t being cannibalized. People who could actually afford a Louis Vuitton Speedy were who Louis Vuitton were after, not the people who wanted a fake one. However, a trending knockoff does indicate that your bag is becoming mainstream, something that the masses want the look and feel of, not just the upper echelon.

Then came the “Boatkin”—the bastard child of the L.L. Bean Boat Tote and the Birkin—a bag that went viral on Etsy and soon boutiques like Zitomers. It had similar hardware and the shape as a Birkin, but was made of canvas. I actually find these to be pretty adorable, but nonetheless, a sign of the times.

Around this time, TikToks from influencers talking about getting a leather appointment at Hermès in Paris began to spike, women making three part series to unbox their first bags for all the world to see. They boasted about getting in at the end of the day regardless of their purchase history, three, four, five girls leaving Paris Fashion Week at a time with a beautiful orange box.

This was confusing to me. I didn’t understand why the birthplace of the Birkin would just be handing these things out. It’s not like they wanted to acquire a younger customer or more sales—Hermès spoke for themselves. They don’t chase, they attract.

Recently, it’s become abundantly clear that people are buying them from authorized third parties and pretending like they’re from Hermès. Or not even pretending, in the case of Rob Rausch for Maura Higgins, who got his from Madison Avenue Couture.

People are buying them in Paris and going straight to the store to sell it to someone who will buy it for more, and then sell it again to an American who wasn’t lucky enough to get a leather appointment. Influencers are pulling Rob Rausches or going straight for vintage, pretending like it’s on purpose.

@acquiredstyleCan’t belive this is mine 🫢

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I’m here to official label the Birkin as lame. Now that everyone and their influencer friend has one, the allure is completely gone, dissipated into thin air with all it-bags before it. It hurts my eyes to look at now, and each one I see has me wondering if it was bought with integrity or through a shortcut. The shape is completely oversaturated, ranging from Amazon to J.W. Pei and beyond.

I don’t know who made me the authority on what’s cool and what’s not, but I can pretend like I have it. If you want to spend $10,000 on something—which I’m nearly certain none of my readers do—you should buy some jewelry like a tennis necklace or a custom encrusted pendant from the diamond district. Go to Portofino or Kyoto or Rio De Janeiro. Buy an apartment, I don’t know.

If you do want to know what bags I think are cool right now, I would probably say something cool and inconspicuous like the Celine Triomphe. Though no bags are really tickling my fancy right now.

I never thought of the Birkin as something that was capable of falling from status. Though I’m sure everyone thought the same about Ellen DeGeneres or Lehman Brothers.

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Although I’m a Cancer, I simply have never felt a connection to the warmest months of the year. My birthday was never during elementary, middle, or high school, and in college I was missing half of my friends. I hate to sweat. If your vacations don’t align, you could go a whole month without hanging out with anyone. And don’t even get me started on camp.

This is the first summer I’ve been genuinely excited for that I can remember in my life. When I think about it, I get butterflies that I can tell are butterflies and not an anxious stomach ache. I feel calm. I feel ready. The beauty of a summer birthday as an adult is shining through, bright enough for me to ignore that 80% of my summer will be spent at my desk.

New York City is one of the best places you can spend a summer. It gets a bad rap for the steaming garbage smell, the burning hot pavement, and the inevitable pit stains that will ruin every shirt in your closet.

While all of this sucks, there are so many things that make the months of June to August in NYC so magical. All of the assholes are out in the Hamptons, you can enjoy dinner outside, it stays light until what feels like 10 PM, and there are some days you leave your house at 8 AM and don’t come home until 2 AM. There’s something amazing in the air, and we all feel it.

Here’s the official Olivia Hawkins guide to all of the best places to visit, all of the food to eat, and all of the best things to do in New York during the summer.

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This, to me, is the Super Bowl. If I could place a parlay on Rihanna showing up, wearing Schiaparelli, and being 4 hours too late, I would. I guess I could now, on Polymarket.

I have a lot of opinions, and so does my chat:

Yesterday at work, I looked particularly horrible, so it was especially funny that I would be judging the world’s most beautiful people on what they were wearing. That isn’t to say I was wrong in any way, though.

It was definitely one of the more underwhelming Gala’s in recent time. I honestly feel like it gets worse and worse each year—the fact that there was a Nader sister there at 5:15 sharp was enough to keep my expectations low. Too much black, too much chiffon, too much Chanel for an event that one could call a Mugler layup.

My favorite MET Gala themes have been, in this order, Camp, China Through The Looking Glass, and Heavenly Bodies. That was the last time anyone tried, genuinely. Here are some of the best looks from those in my humble opinion:

Of course, as a true MET Head, I understand that this event was way better when actual celebrities didn’t go, when it was socialites, models, “fashion people”, and those who were true patrons of the arts. People like Tinsley Mortimer:

Or Chloë Sevigny:

Or Liv Tyler and Stella McCartney:

There were no Bravo-lebrities or Love Island cast members. The theme was more wink wink than cosplay. It had some decorum.

I don’t want to be a hater for this entire letter. I obviously love the MET Gala. I’m just a little disappointed and yearning for some REAL FASHION!

For those of you who live normal lives, let me give you a little rundown.

The theme this year was “Costume Art”, in accordance with the Costume Institute’s latest exhibit of the same name, which explores the intersection of fashion, the body, and art.

The MET Gala’s theme is meant to be followed, which some people seem to be a little confused about, even the ones who work at Vogue! Funny how that works.

There are a lot of armchair experts on Twitter that come out once a year to judge and say that so-and-so wasn’t on theme, so-and-so was boring, etc. Sometimes, it’s a little more nuanced and not so much in your face. Sometimes, the trolls have a point, and it’s completely off the mark.

Designers and news outlets buy tables to invite celebrities and guests. If a designer invites you, then you wear them. For example, Camila Morrone and Laufey both wore Tory Burch, walked the carpet with Tory herself, and sat together. The money used to buy tables then goes into funding the Costume Institute.

I always make a trip to visit the yearly exhibit and if you’ve never done so, I absolutely implore you to. It’s worth whatever line you have to wait in and whatever trek uptown you have to make.

Let’s get into the things I loved for a little vibe switch.

BEST DRESSED:

Chase Infiniti in Thom Browne

This. Was. PERFECT. Such a beautiful dress that didn’t scream Thom Browne like I’ve felt in year’s past, and so incredibly stunning on her. The glam is perfect, z e r o notes.

Olivia Wilde in Thom Browne

I am an Olivia Wilde apologist. I think she could write a Lena Dunham Famesick-style memoir about everyone hating you for no reason, and she should. I’ve loved a loose ponytail ever since I was a little girl…and another winner for Thom! Get me to his table!

Kylie Jenner in Schiaparelli

A lot of people must’ve gotten confused and thought they were going to the Grammy’s from the way they were dressed in these big ball gowns or slender, sexy black dresses. Kylie looks like she’s going to THE COSTUME INSTITUTE BENEFIT. COSTUME. COST. UME. I love seeing an edgier side to her and I’m a sucker for a bleached brow. It’s the art school in me.

Blue Ivy Carter in Olivier Rousteing

I had to check my notes when writing down Olivier until I saw him fixing Blue’s hair on the carpet with his own two hands! Blue Ivy is a star. She is poised, elegant, and I love seeing her confidence shine at such a young age. This is what you should be wearing to the MET at 34, let alone 14. So classy. So elegant. Sculptural in form which is in accordance with the dress code but still appropriate for a gal so young.

Emma Chamberlain in Mugler

As one of the first ten people to arrive on the scene for her hosting duties, it was going to be really hard to follow Emma Chamberlain. To me, she absolutely nailed the theme. The silhouette is excellent on her.

WORST DRESSED

Kendall Jenner in GAP Studio

One of my distinct childhood memories is when Helen Hunt wore H&M to the Academy Awards in 2013. I can literally see her say H&M to the red carpet correspondent as clear as day. These things have no place on runways such as the Costume Institute. It was cute when it was a denim dress on Anne Hathaway, but enough is enough. This would be appropriate for the VMAs (derogatory).

Heidi Klum in God knows what

I just like, don’t understand why she does this.

L*uren S*nchez B*zos in Schiaparelli

Senior Prom, Dallas, Texas, 2016.

Joe Alwyn in Valentino

It’s for sure cool when guys stray away from a regular tux. I don’t know that we need to go as far as a Peter Pan x Star Wars crossover if it were produced by a high school drama department, though.

Joe Burrow in unknown

Two Joe’s do not make a right. Everything he wears…it’s just lighting money on fire.

Hudson Williams in Balenciaga

I’m honestly just really glad Harry Styles couldn’t get to this in 2018 before Hudson could.

My favorite style moments of the night are typically the after party lewks. I’ll be sharing those on the Coffee Order Instagram:

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I will leave you all with this. Have a lovely week.

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As a frequent movie-goer, I take purchasing tickets to trending movies very seriously, and try to attend as soon as possible. I’m also a frequent Twitter user, and the idea of seeing a spoiler or something that would hinder my viewing experience is deeply upsetting. That’s why I was at the Regal Union Square the first night Marty Supreme became available, the Regal Delancey Crossing the night The Drama became available, and now, find myself here, one night before the official release of The Devil Wears Prada: 2.

I would be accompanied by three of my coworkers, my sister, and one of my coworker’s roommates who has become a friend. As 3 of us work in fashion and 1 of us works in PR, this was the team I wanted to assemble for the occasion.

The original film is one of my favorites of all time for reasons that are obvious:

Obvious reasons why I love The Devil Wears Prada:

• It’s about working for “Runway” / Vogue, every little girl who wants to work in fashion’s dream

• Stanley Tucci

• Meryl Streep

• Amazing clothes

• Witty references

• It’s ~an hour and 40 minutes long

However, it’s a genuinely layered film that is widely beloved beyond its superficial aspects of legendary actors who also happen to be beautiful, amazing clothes, and the gossipy concept of it being written by Anna Wintour’s old assistant. We see the fallout of Miranda’s personal life and how that affects her relationship with Andy, we see the stereotype of fashion being looked at as “unserious” journalism and it being proved wrong, we see the importance of loyalty and self development.

I stand firmly against reboots and genuinely do not understand why we continue to develop them instead of a focus on new shows and movies. However, when I heard this was happening, I will admit that my heart leaped a little bit. Any excuse to see Anne Hathaway not only on the screen, but on every billboard, taxi, and Instagram swipe for the next four weeks—how lucky are we?

The advertising for this film is a little overplayed. I don’t need to see every single consumer good somehow tied into it. L’Oréal Paris posters with Kendall Jenner’s face, seemingly promoting a DWP2 Lipstick, the discourse about how the movie itself is colored like an ad instead of a movie, the alleged Dior placement within the storyline, it’s all too much.

As a frequent hypocrite, Thursday morning at 11:30 AM sharp, I logged onto the AMC Shop to buy the viral popcorn bucket:

only to find that it had sold out, and was now available for PRE-ORDER, to be shipped and delivered in SEPTEMBER. Sometimes, believe it or not, I do have a sound mind when deciding on a purchase. This one, I couldn’t stomach.

The odds of there still being popcorn buckets available at the AMC Thursday evening were slim to none. I think I would sooner run into King Charles than acquire one of them at the concessions stand at the ripe hour of 7 PM, a full day of showings having gone by.

The AMC of choice was Kips Bay 15. This one is usually clean and in a central location with a great snack offering, and they always get the blockbuster movies first. There were no popcorn buckets left, but we passed two billboards on the way there:

Now that the scene is set, let’s get into my review.

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I thought that by landing back in the United States at 4:30 PM, steaming and showering at Equinox, staying awake by perusing through Whole Foods like a zombie, and then going to sleep at 9, I would officially biohack my way out of Barcelona time and into my regularly scheduled programming.

I was wrong.

The entire week I felt a weird haze looming over me, different than the dark cloud I described a few weeks back, but an odd, barely there fog that made me feel like I was drunk through my days. My neck ached, I had a multi-day headache that I still have, and every night at 8:30, my eyes became unimaginably heavy.

As you all know, I’m a chronic fomo sufferer, typically panic texting my friends every Friday asking what they’re doing this weekend. Everyone was pretty lowkey—dogsitting with their boyfriend, laying low because of law school finals, Mets game with family, etc. That morning, I had looked around my disgusting apartment that had a layer of dust on every surface, a hamper full of laundry from my trip and before, and a shower that desperately needed bleaching. My weekend destiny was decided for me.

What does a chill weekend in my life look like? I’m happy to share.

On Friday I would scrub my apartment until my fingers became raw, spend the night dodging drunk people on the way to my laundry room, and organize every cabinet I had. For lunch, I had treated myself to a Vodka Parm from Compton’s because I was slightly hungover from a first date the night before and neglected a meal-prepped salad, which had to be for dinner out of the new principles of my finances.

When all of my ducks were in a row, I had gone through three Swiffer Wet Pads, and my pantry was a perfect little Jenga tower, I watched The Truth and Tragedy of Moriah Wilson on Netflix which was devastating and gripping while playing Animal Crossing, completing a May Day challenge bequest on me by Tom Nook and renovating my bathroom. This weekend, I also wanted to get a lot of reading done, particularly finishing Famesick by Lena Dunham. I crawled into bed around 10, read a chapter, and slept for approximately 12 hours.

On Saturday, my sister and I had plans to get lunch at EJ’s Luncheonette and walk around the Upper East Side, her new hood. We started with Honeybun Lattes at Casita of Brooklyn, a place that I’ve come to love after my first visit to her apartment, and embarked on a rainy journey down to EJ’s. Something we need to work on is walking with umbrellas at the same time next to each other. I eventually gave up and just went with my hat and trench coat.

Someone ruined EJ’s by posting about it on TikTok, so the line was wrapped around the block. We settled for the bar at Gracie Mews Diner, which was delicious while slightly expensive for a casual brunch. I got a bloody mary because, when in Rome. Monte Cristo sandwiches have been my favorite ever since I was a kid, and the Gracie Mews one was the perfect substitute for my favorite Connecticut diner that has since shuttered.

We then went to Zitomer’s where we got matching acrylic headbands a-la CBK (remember when I talked shit about those during Love Story), pondered over the Victoria Beckham makeup counter, and marveled a the wall of Mason Pearson hairbrushes before making our final stop at the Nespresso store.

So, I had never been to a Nespresso store until that point. I always just ordered on their app, because it’s incredible and fun to use. I didn’t realize that this was basically an Apple Store for coffee, with samples and bundles galore, as well as an espresso bar where you could get 20% off a drink with any purchase. I walked out with the Blue Bottle three-pack, cup, and ice tray set as well as the honey pistachio latte to enjoy for my long trip home.

By the time I returned back to the Lower East Side, it was pouring rain. I had a few loose plans or potential meetups in the works, but the idea of leaving my cozy, squeaky clean digs seemed impossible at the moment. I had also blew $60 at Nespresso, so it was in my best interest to lay low for the night in light of my recent international travels and money-spending.

I made some Kevin’s Mongolian beef on my hot plate (my building’s gas line has been under repairs and I can’t live without Goodles), cozied up once again on my couch, and watched NBA Playoff Basketball while reading Famesick.

This weekend at home, I felt so happy after an elongated period of sluggish sadness that I was afraid something was wrong with me. As I sat on the couch, watching a horrific documentary of a girl my age who got murdered and eating a salad I made, or stirring Mongolian beef on my hot plate while cheering for no team in particular, I was overcome with a cozy feeling in my chest that I hadn’t felt in a long time by myself. Recently, whenever I’m particularly level-headed or clear and sound in decision making, I genuinely wonder if my frontal lobe developing is something you can feel happening. I avoided all normal ruminating on how I’m young, I should be at the club or at a dinner with my friends at the very least, and genuinely loved being by myself in this space I curated just for me.

On Sunday I went to the pottery studio, where I got back on the wheel for the first time in what I think was a little over a month. Just like riding a bike, I made one of my favorite pieces to-date, and three of the biggest I had ever been able to accomplish.

After the studio, I hit Trader Joe’s and bought things that a sixth-grader who was given independence and autonomy in the grocery store would—frozen crustless peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, instant garlic Thai noodles, potato chips, etc., as well as some beautiful ranunculus. I also hadn’t bought flowers in a few months, another step towards grounding myself and letting the fog pass.

Showering and steaming at the Equinox has brought me a lot of joy recently as well. As the final step to my recovery weekend, I laid splayed out on the stone step, taking in the hot, eucalyptus air, then enjoying the plethora of Le Labo products that my luxury gym membership has to offer. I had never felt cleaner.

This week has a lot in store for me that I’m excited about—the premiere of The Devil Wears Prada: 2 to be most specific. I didn’t want to be just barely crawling my way through like I was before, I wanted to feel like myself again. Mission accomplished.

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There’s a lot going on in the world of pop culture.

We’ve got Bravo hotter than ever with Summer House drama up the wazoo and the smash success of The Real Housewives of Rhode Island (Lisa Barlow is somewhere in Utah stress eating Wendy’s with “Ben Affleck”), Bieberchella, Lena Dunham’s memoir (I’m halfway through), trash episodes on HBO—and that’s barely scratching the zeitgeist surface.

I may regret writing this before seeing The Devil Wears Prada: 2 next week, but there’s always next Friday, and then the Friday after that, and the Friday after that, and…

This week, I wanted to go back to Coffee Order’s roots, where I gave my hard opinions on everything going on that doesn’t affect me at all in reality. My own personal lalaland of controversy, press coverage, and celebrity.

I’d say we’re overdue. Let’s MENTION IT ALL!

The Real Housewives of Rhode Island is a program I was highly skeptical of. I’m pretty sure I told a bunch of people that I wasn’t going to watch it. I’m happily eating my words.

First of all, I had no idea Rhode Island was so Italian. It’s basically a New England New Jersey. I’ve of course been a bunch of times being from Connecticut, but for some reason I assumed it was waspy like Nantucket or Fairfield County. There are accents on this show my ears have never heard before. Dialects of the English language I didn’t know existed. See exhibit A:

Alicia is really important to me. Everything about her is spectacular and I feel a draw to protect her for some reason. The fact that she’s been engaged for 11 years because her husband won’t give her equity in the Pizza Mamma business is obviously very scary to me, and I hope we work that out before Season 2.

Kelsey is also someone I feel connected to, which is weird because we couldn’t be more different. For those of you who don’t know, she’s a 30 year-old former Miss Rhode Island who is in a polyamorous relationship, living in her main boyfriend’s empty 16k square foot house while he visits his other girlfriend for 6 months in Miami. In the meantime, she’s trying to figure out if a kind man named Bill who she’s known since high school could do what her main man can’t—supplement her lifestyle and give her children.

These are storylines never before seen to The Real Housewives franchises. This isn’t about plastic surgery or tax evasion (yet) or opening weird clothing boutiques. These are unique problems that these gals are bringing to the table, which makes them so compelling, along with their obvious mob ties and beyond bizarre livelihoods.

In terms of Summer House, I’m a little tapped out and just want the reunion to come. Mia did a great job on Watch What Happens Live, she’s going to be a star, and she’s an amazing friend for Ciara to have in her corner right now.

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The three of us wanted to treat ourselves to a nice vacation—spend some PTO and some money, travel across the ocean, and have the time of our lives. We chose Barcelona because none of us had ever been there before, it’s on the water, and seems like a great time.

I haven’t been to Europe in a few years, so I was looking forward to completely and utterly disconnecting, spending time relaxed and away from all of my mundane issues in America. The flight wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, and as I write this on the journey home, I’ll time travel back to New York in the middle of the day there, losing no time at all.

We stayed at Soho House, which I highly recommend. Although I may be in debt now, it was completely worth it in terms of security and luxury. I felt very safe, enjoyed multiple days by their rooftop pool, and slept in a California King Bed which kept Eliza and I further away than me and my freshman roommate Emma spent our entire year. It was also nice to always have a place to have a great coffee, drink, or time, and was in a central location in terms of where the city laid. Our room had ocean views, a Dyson hair dryer, and a beautiful rain shower, a recipe for an amazing long weekend with my besties.

Day 1

Arrived in Barcelona around 9 AM local time. Waited in the customs line for an hour. Ubered to our hotel, used their locker room to get ready for the day, headed up to the roof for coffee and some Vitamin D.

We had lunch at Restaurant Sedna, a random place by the water that looked decent since we were starving. We called this Spanish Kiki’s (which ended up being kind of everywhere around Barcelona) because of its delicious small plates and cheap wine, just what the doctor ordered after a long flight.

Our first stop was Los Feliz Vintage, where I got a sick Moschino dress that was like Word Art from the early 2000s. This store had a lot of amazing Italian designer vintage and fun statement pieces that I tried on as well.

We then went to the Cathedral de Barcelona for some sightseeing, walked around the Gothic Quarter, and got frozen yogurt at Myka (now available in New York which is great news for me considering I cannot live without it anymore) before going back to our room for some rest. Eliza and I secured a daybed by the pool while Elizabeth took a nap, easing into the Spanish lifestyle with our first Siesta of the week.

Dinner was at Bar Tiberi which was excellent. We got some traditional tapas and great cocktails, and after all was said and done on the trip, I decided this was one of my favorite meals there. It’s more laid back than I had anticipated, but was the perfect vibe for our first night after long travel. I wore my new dress!

We went to Bar Marsella, a spot said to be frequented by Picasso and Hemingway, and cosplayed some girls studying abroad from the University of Michigan for two drinks with some pirates (literally). Unbeknownst to us, it was Barcelona Fashion Week, so we ended the night at a party back at the hotel hosted by the brand SSSTUFFF, and met some boys who we learned soon after were born in 2004. That was a little jarring.

Day 2

Had a long no alarm sleep before heading out for some shopping. We got breakfast at Raw Studios, I ordered pancakes and an americano, and fueled up before hitting the classics: Gimaguas, Zara, and of course, Brandy Melville. At Gimaguas, I got this skirt that I ended up wearing on Night 2 (why did I even pack clothes), and I also ended up getting a tank top and shirt from Massimo Dutti because, when in Rome (Spain). I left Zara empty handed which was disappointing, but nothing I haven’t experienced before.

The sightseeing for the day consisted of Basilica de la Sagrada Familia and Casa Batllo. Then dinner on the Soho House roof before we would go for some drinks and dancing the night away. The boys from the ssstufff party recommended this club called Chica because it had an “older crowd”——it became obvious they thought we were like, ancient——and we were dedicated to staying vigilant against pick picketers or other criminals, so we went with it because they honestly seemed like a bunch of little nepo babies.

Chica felt like New York and also Mexico City. The crowd started to fill up around halfway through our cocktail hour, and it was a lot of music with no words——again, when in Rome. It was pretty much a sausage party and after feeling like some discarded French fries on a beach full of seagulls, we called it a night (or morning). I’d still recommend going there because it was chic and reputable and not too expensive.

Day 3

Another slow wake up. Breakfast that turned into a pool day on the roof before dedicating our time to vintage shopping only. I got a vintage Agnes B cardigan from a store called The Favorite Vintage, which had a very cool American owner, an incredible archive, and super fair prices. Then, we went to Lullaby Vintage and a few other spots in that area (El Raval) that I don’t remember the names of, but if you message me I can find them on Google Maps.

We had another glass of wine before our dinner reservation at Julieta’s by the beach. This was a great spot and felt perfect for a special occasion we were celebrating (Eliza’s birthday the next day). We got a lot of fresh seafood, our Paella, more wine, and delicious gelato before a nightcap at Les Gens Que J'Aime, another super cool place for a late-ish night.

Day 4

Our last full day was Eliza’s Birthday, so we woke her up with a birthday sign, gifts, and got some breakfast on the roof once again. On the docket for that day was Park Güell, Handy Bakery, and a mid-day snack, my favorite part of the Barcelona lifestyle. Handy Bakery was genuinely one of the best slices of cake I’ve ever had, the neighborhood was beautiful, and it was hands down the cleanest and nicest bathroom in the entire city, so that’s a must. Park Güell was beautiful and it felt good to see, but the Aperol Spritz at El 37 was even better.

Our last dinner was at Akiro, a famous hand roll spot near the University of Barcelona (perhaps neighbors with our new friends). It’s walk-in only, but the hour and some change wait was definitely worth it. This was one of the best meals I’ve had in my life, and while it was a splurge, it felt like a nice thing to do for myself. Get the caviar nigiri with bone marrow and the wagyu hand roll.

We headed to the airport around 10 AM Barcelona time on Monday, and that was also the time I happened to be ready to have my hair feel normal again and order Chick Fil A to my apartment. Barcelona was truly spectacular and such a special place to be with two of my bestest friends. This feels like a time in my life where I should be maximizing my freedom and dexterity. After all, who cares about some light AMEX debt when you don’t have any dependents? Money comes back around.

Obviously, as someone who loves a 6 PM dinner and convenience, Spain was definitely more of a cultural difference than somewhere like London or even Mexico City. But it was fun to fully immerse ourselves in the culture and we acclimated quickly, eating breakfast at 1:30 on day 2 and dinner at 10 pm on day 4. The weather was beyond perfect, the people were very kind, and the hardest part was ordering an Uber during the evening hours. All in all, pretty awesome to be me.

These travel posts are fun. You can read my packing guide here, or all about my trip to Mexico City last summer here.

I was so jetlagged and tired while writing this I probably missed things like outfit links or additional info. You know where to find me. Also, it’s not edited. LOVE YA!

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I’m not the most savvy traveler. I definitely pack light, make lists, and rarely make any huge mistakes. I’ve never missed a flight (KNOCK ON WOOD), I have TSA Pre-Check, Clear, and a Delta AMEX. Despite all of this, I leave the country once every few years, mainly visiting friends and family within the continental U.S. or going on a short getaway.

I will also splurge on convenience. I do not care that a water bottle at the airport is $7 (less than a Coffee Order subscription, need I remind you), and I do not care how expensive food is. I need to be comfortable. PTO days are precious, and should be used for complete and utter relaxation.

The system I’ve created for myself is pretty full proof. Let’s start with the luggage.

• T.J. Maxx, Marshall’s, and Target undoubtedly make great suitcases for very cheap. I don’t own an Away or Rimowa. I won a July checked luggage-sized suitcase at an e-commerce conference this year that I’ve used once, but it was fabulous nonetheless.

• Dange Dover makes the best carry-on/personal items in the game. I swear by mine and don’t care if it’s not a chic leather carryall. I have both the large neoprene London Duffle and the medium mesh London Duffle in Black (not on their site, but Olive Green is more than half-off at Saks), which I’m using for this trip.

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I get into these “grey cloud” moods that tend to last anywhere from a day to a few weeks. They’re typically triggered by a series of unfortunate events—the L not running, a bad date, stress, things like that.

As someone who at one time had two different therapists and a psychiatrist, I’ve gone through extensive evaluation to determine that this just happens sometimes, and it’s not indicative of a greater issue or anything we need to be super serious about. Everyone has bad days, and I need to come to terms with that.

My friend asked if I wanted to go with her and her friend Jess to the Mets on Thursday. I love hanging with Evie because she always has a good idea and an even better attitude to bring with her. The first time I went to the Mets was last year, and I felt that it was such a fabulous event that everyone should be going all of the time. That was the last time I had been, and over 365 days later, I was clearly overdue.

The serendipity of the night began when Evie and I were on the 7, figuring out how we were going to find Jess, when she literally walked straight into our subway car. For the rest of the ride, Jess and I realized we had way too much in common to not be friends (both copywriters, both from the Tri-State area), so the night ensued seamlessly.

It should go without saying that I once again had a wonderful night at Citi Field. I have no idea to this day if the Mets won or lost. What I do know is that my hot chocolate, pretzel with cheese, hot dog, and a great time with the gals kept me warm throughout the night.

This weekend was special because it was the first time all 11 of my high school friend group would be together since 2023.

We are extraordinarily close, still texting in our groupchat every day, keeping each other updated on everything as small as a paper cut to as big as a house bought. The majority of us live in New York City, but we have a few in Denver, Tampa, and Boston that visit regularly, but never at the same time.

The agenda was packed—catch-up and pizza on Friday night at Grace’s apartment, day drinking on Saturday at Hartley’s in Bed Stuy for Hartley, Spritzenhaus in Greenpoint, and then the world would be our oyster.

These girls have seen me through a lot of different moons. Some of them I met in Kindergarten, so 2026 marked 20 full years of friendship with no interruption. We’ve played American Girl Dolls, mixed Smirnoff with Arnold Palmer, visited each other at college, and now plan trips for a time to reconnect. And the weirdest part is that it’s felt the same through it all. Even the friends I didn’t meet until high school—it all feels the same.

Spending time with each other is full of name dropping, reminiscing, and giving the headlines of what’s happening for ourselves now. Naturally, we’re all over the map in terms of where we stand in life. Ashley bought a house in Denver, Shayna lives with a boy (her boyfriend), Clare moved to Williamsburg from Murray Hill. Some of us are talking engagement ring shapes, some of us are talking pasta shapes. It doesn’t matter. When we’re together, it feels like it always did.

Hartley’s was a fabulous institution that I will frequent now. I’m not afraid of the A/C/E train. There was a one-year-old’s birthday party happening there (which was hilarious and genius, having your baby’s first birthday at a bar) who also happened to be named Sully (like one of our best friends), the bartender gave Hartley a cup for free, and I had two half-pints of Guinness (one full pint, I came to realize). We snapped pics in the late afternoon sun—a lesson we learned the hard way by not having a single picture of the 11 of us since 2018—enjoyed ciders, sang happy birthday to Sully, and added some college roommates and boyfriends to the mix, another really beautiful part of growing up with your best friends, getting to meet their best friends and people who love them just as much.

Spritzenhaus is an old classic, we go there a lot for work and it’s a nice change of pace from cramped, crowded bars where you’re getting elbowed in the face to a vast drinking warehouse that takes up a city block. Shayna worked her magic and got us a primetime table outside, where we set up camp for the foreseeable future. We ended the night with 7th Street Burger and the Masters reruns on one of our communal boyfriend’s roofs, sat around the fire pit, and did what we do best—laugh.

Needless to say, the grey cloud that carried above my head swiftly blew away. It’s hard to not say in your head so much when things seem to pile on. The best remedy for me is to surround myself with people who make me feel good, and the rest comes naturally.

I’m leaving for Barcelona on Wednesday, and since there was no Coffee Order on Friday (blame the grey cloud), I’m going to do a paid post on both Wednesday and Friday. I’m thinking Wednesday will be a travel guide, and still brainstorming for Friday. If you have any requests, holler…

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My dad grew up catholic and decided to not put his own children through that. I’m not sure where my mom’s family falls on the spiritually spectrum, we spend Christmas with them and there were rumblings of having attended Midnight Mass back in the day, but growing up with a Jewish best friend meant I experienced more synagogs than sermons.

I’m not baptized or confirmed, which means I’m fair game in the eyes of the lord when it comes to converting if I fall in love with someone religious and want my own Nobody Wants This moment. It also means I’m going to hell if you believe in that.

I watched an interview on CNN where Jake Tapper asked the cousin of one of the Artemis Astronauts if he was a religious man considering their mission falls over Easter Weekend, and how he reconciles religion with science as an astronaut. This felt like a ridiculous question to spend precious airtime on a segment that’s covering the first mission to the moon in decades. Who cares? She gave a pretty good answer that would please the masses—while he believes the universe is the result of a spectacular scientific event, God was the one who made that event possible.

According to TikTok and the mainstream media, Catholicism is on the rise and it’s actually trendy for Gen-Z to go to mass. People are meeting likeminded friends and prospective significant others in the West Village—something otherwise impossible for the last five years if you’ve been watching TikTok and reading the mainstream media.

Growing up without religion meant that Easter and Christmas were about outfits, presents, but most importantly, spending time with the people closest to you and eating good food. Both holidays revolve around potatoes mixed with four types of cheeses and corn flakes, which I guess makes my religion the Midwest.

My earliest memories of Easter are when my dad was still working for Golf Digest, he and my mom would invite his colleagues / their friends and their families over for an Easter Egg hunt, followed by cheesy potatoes and ham, and what I could imagine was a pretty early ending considering we were probably five. There are pictures of me in a straw hat, peplum dress, and pristinely white sandals, waving to the camera with my basket full of eggs, undoubtedly the buddings of my competitive spirit and love of looking good while winning.

“The Easter bunny” used to leave a jelly bean trail over night, leading from the feet of our beds, down the stairs, and to our baskets which were designated with an “O” for Olivia or “G” for Grace also out of jelly beans. My dad would yell about stepping on them about two hours after the magic had worn off, and my mom would wordlessly hand me and Grace empty ziplocks to fill that then became a treat for days to come. My mom is and always will be the best host as well as the best mom, giving us presents for every minor holiday. While my friends were getting chocolate bunnies and being forced to 9 am services, I was getting Nintendo DS games and playing them all afternoon once everyone left the party.

People like to debate the importance of religion when raising a family. Speaking for myself, it doesn’t seem that important. I still have morals and grew up afraid of a larger power without naming it “God”. Turns out, that was actually anxiety and OCD.

Of course, I grew up with immense fomo when it came to organized religion. I wanted to go on the service trip to Appalachia, I wanted a batmizvah. I wanted to be in on the jokes from CCD. I wanted to wear a cross. One of those things I could control:

I have vivid memories of reading in J14 magazine that Miley Cyrus was reading the Bible cover to cover and thinking that was really cool. It wasn’t until high school when I found out about Vice Media and people like Louis Theroux who would go to the Westboro Baptist Church or invade a cult when I found out that some churches were bad, that some people were being hurt and not everything was laughing with your friends and wearing a sparkly dress.

Maybe I had fomo because I was Godless. Maybe if I had a God, I wouldn’t feel left out because he would will those negative emotions out of me, like a Southern Baptist-style exorcism. Maybe the dainty, beautiful diamond-encrusted Star of David around my deck would create a forcefield against negativity. Maybe the fact that I would be a real, genuine WASP, straight out of Connecticut would provide me with enough sense of community to never feel left out or alone.

People are always surprised when I tell them Easter is one of my favorite holidays. It’s funny because at first, it makes me sound like I love Jesus. I’m sure if I knew him I would, he’s kind of one of those to know him is to love him types like Paul Rudd or Samuel L. Jackson. But the reality is I love wearing a cute spring outfit, getting lightly drunk off of mimosas in the comfort of my own childhood home during the afternoon, and eating all day. This is a little sacrilegious in nature, I know the true meaning of Easter is much deeper and inspiring, a tale of immaculate resurrection and the triumph of life over death (thank you, Gemini).

Something I did not and still do not have fomo over is Lent. I don’t understand how giving up TikTok is going to make you closer to Jesus. It’s the same thing with New Years Resolutions. I also think people should just do whatever makes them happy, and if that’s Lent or a resolution, knock yourself out.

As I write this, I’m in the middle seat on the 4:48 metro north train back to Manhattan. The guy to my right is resting his elbow in the nook where my thigh meets my hip and having open dialogue with ChatGPT. I hope he also enjoyed this week’s Coffee Order.

I consumed some pretty life-changing media this week. The first is Madeline Cash’s first novel, Lost Lambs, which was intercepted to me by my dear friend Nicholson after he gave our other friend Seth a book he already read for his birthday. I had seen a lot of press for this book including an Interview Magazine feature, private launch parties, and cool girls on Instagram posing with the book half covering their face, which is honestly the best press you could ever ask for. I immediately felt insecure about another person close to my age writing a book. To add insult to injury, it was revealed in the Interview Magazine article that she also lived near me. The walls of success were closing in. This is what led to me booking a solo trip to Copenhagen this summer to serve as a pseudo writing retreat.

Anyway, back to Lost Lambs. It was one of the most spectacular novels I’ve read in recent memory. From War Crimes Wes to Louise, to the gnats to the billionaires, I was seriously sad when it was over. Cash has a way of narrative storytelling that’s both inspiring and envy inducing. I highly recommend if you’re looking for something fun as the weather warms up, but not fun in a Kindle Unlimited lobotomy read type of way, fun in a way that makes you think and reflect and laugh out loud.

The next was The Drama. I went back and forth in my head about discussing this because it just came out and I don’t want to accidentally spoil anything, especially since I didn’t know what the twist was and that made the experience tenfold better.

I hadn’t realized that I had watched one of Kristoffer Borgli’s movies with an old flame last year, Dream Scenario starring Nicholas Cage, and thoroughly enjoyed it. If you’re not new around here, you know that I love weird movies, books, TV, men, music, etc. Kristoffer’s got weird on lock, and it was cool to see him execute that with such mega mainstream movie stars. The editing and the music alone is worth going to see it, and if you’re as shocked as I am, the experience on Twitter afterwards is even more-so.

The third and final was Tiny Furniture, ’s second film from 2010 that catapulted her into writing Girls. The movie is about Lena, called Aura, moving home once she’s graduated college, just having broke up with her boyfriend, carrying a lot of mental and physical baggage with her including a brat complex and a pet mouse.

I cannot believe I hadn’t seen this movie before. A Lena Dunham written and directed movie, starring Lena Dunham and Jemima Kirke, about a bratty 22 year old who is way too privileged to be acting the way she does, working at Clandestino? It gave me a weird feeling like the trajectory I’ve been on (having spent thousands of dollars and way too many nights at Clandestino over the years as a Lena Dunham disciple) is the trajectory I’m supposed to be on, and that everything will work out just fine.

I wanted to watch Tiny Furniture ahead of her memoir release next week. I’m seeing her talk about it with Andrew Randalls next Tuesday in Brooklyn, and I want to make sure I have every single ounce of backstory I could possibly have. Of course, I was again full of that existential crisis of not having produced a defining body of work at the age of 25, especially since Lena was only 22 when Tiny Furniture came out.

is one of those people like Gwyneth (Paltrow) who I have a thousand questions for. Should I freestyle my first book or follow an outline? Why would anyone read it if I’m nobody? How do I justify this very Hannah Horvath period of my life? She’s someone who seems like they have all of the answers to me. She would laugh if she knew I felt that way. But in the same vein, I feel like she understands why I feel that way. That movie was like looking in a mirror. I had never felt so seen by anything in my life. And while I’m not doing a lot of the things Aura was (i.e. with the coworker in the pipe), it made me feel like I was Timothee Chalamet watching Good Will Hunting or something. I couldn’t believe that Jemima Kirke has just always been a genius. I couldn’t believe they actually filmed it inside of Clandestino.

Maybe I learned more from Tiny Furniture and Girls than I ever would’ve from CCD. Maybe investing in the Criterion Channel is going to give me a higher ROI than any organized religion would’ve. Time will tell, that’s for sure.

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