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This is a paywalled dispatch of Consumption Report, a semi-regular newsletter on whatever a baffled, extremely online young woman (me!) needs to work through. Paid subscriptions help support me to do the things that I talk about in these dispatches—overuse my data, see three movies a week, and have a no-ads Hulu subscription. Consider upgrading your subscription today!
The soundtrack for this dispatch: Peter Sarstedt’s “Where Do You Go to (My Lovely)” which I first heard in Wes Anderson’s Hotel Chevalier
I’m currently in Ithaca, NY, attending Cornell’s School of Criticism and Theory, a six-week program of seminars, lectures, and workshop. Essentially, voluntary summer school. Right before I got here though, I was in London, with a pit stop in Paris1, visiting friends, spending coin, and like, realizing things (like maybe I enjoy traveling more than I thought I did). Here’s what I got up to:
Tuesday
Because of flight delays and my fitful sleep on the plane, I was so tired by the time I got to London and the gray skies weren’t helping. I was prepared for the London Underground to be confusing but not prepared enough. I got lost several times trying to find the right train platform and my suitcase fell backwards off an escalator. I was staying with RAFTM Hannah Ziegler and arrived at her place just as my phone died. After I settled in, we headed to Esters for lunch, where I got an oat latte and a smoked trout tart. People warned me that the coffee in London wasn’t very good but I had no complaints, especially since so much coffee in New York is bitter bitter bitter. The tart was noticeably salty but in a way that I assume smoked trout should be and in a way that revitalized me. This place was really cute and I could see going to cowork there or having a sneaky midday coffee with a friend (they close at 3).
I had been tasked with acquiring a notebook from Katie Leamon for a friend back home, so after lunch I hopped on a bus to Tottenham towards what I thought was the Katie Leamon store. When I arrived, however, and tried to buzz up, I found out that when they said “studio” on their website, they really meant studio, as in, the office where they work. To make the thirty minute commute worth it, I strolled over to the under construction Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, took a few bad photos, and caught the bus home. Tourism!
That night, Hannah Ziegler and I, along with other RAFTM Emma Cohen were headed to Patti Harrison’s live show, My Huge Tits Huge Because They Are Infected Not Fake!, at the Soho Theatre and so planned to have dinner somewhere nearby. We settled on Lina Stores, an “Italian” place. I ordered the pappardelle lamb ragu, which was passable—I’ve never been impressed by a ragu and yet I continue to order them…The star of the night were the two desserts we ordered: salted caramel chocolate mousse and tiramisu. The Eataly tiramisu is truly my #1 and the one at Lina Stores was respectable competition, though did not usurp Eataly’s. The chocolate mousse would be one of three I had over the course of my trip and it would be the best.
In the lobby of the Soho Theatre before the show, Emma’s sharp eyes spotted both One Day’s Ambika Mod and the Most Normal Man in the Yorgos Lanthimos Cinematic Universe, Joe Alwyn. It has been said that Joe Alwyn is someone who you have to see in person to get his appeal and I can now say that this is 100% true.
Patti’s show was incredible—fun and strange and unnerving. Lots of fake blood and an unexpected Stuart Little cameo even the Hot Rodent Boyfriend discourse couldn’t anticipate. A perfect ending to an incredibly long day.
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