All articles

She’ll tell you about a forgotten actress from fifty years ago in her ruby red Repetto slippers. Your attention is held. Galen Hopper embodies the word cool from the moment you meet her. I met Galen some years ago and was immediately struck by her effortless IT factor. My bias is that I still think she's really cool. Even after all this time. Galen is striking. Beautiful, yes. Interesting, yes. Articulate, yes. An actress and a writer, Galen understands the weight of each

From age 10, this sentence served as a contingency plan. God forbid anyone in my middle school uncovered the truth about me. It was backup if confronted with a yearbook photo from third grade or a gymnastics roster with my birth name on it. If disaster struck, at least I’d have something poised and simple to say. At its surface, it seemed like a great sentiment. My butch lesbian therapist and I worked on crafting it for weeks. We were trying to encapsulate the vibe of: Don’t

I first encountered Nick Laird’s poetry at a summer creative writing program in Paris. I was twenty-one, having chosen to go abroad primarily for the simple reasons: to get drunk each night on the Île Saint-Louis, to spend my day at the Louvre or the Orsay, to read poetry at a cafe while drinking espresso (to be watched while doing all of the following). I wanted to be one of those people who came back from study abroad and said emphatically: “It changed me; it’s truly hard t