From the words of Mary Gatskill to reluctantly-acquired gorpcore goods, our team shares the very best of what we consumed this month
Made Document No. 23 at Bia: In the months preceding an issue release, Document consumes my entire life: Our office becomes my home and my home becomes our office. Bia also becomes my office. I have yet to see another laptop at the bar, and they have yet to complain about my eternal presence (to my face, at least). I’d approximate that 30 percent of this issue was ideated, edited, and proofed there; I owe its making to the steady supply of gin and spring rolls. I’m actually writing this at Bia right now.
—Megan Hullander, Print Managing Editor
Bought some Arc’teryx: Personal style thrives on rules: no crossbody bags (unless it’s an Hermès Kelly), no denim (this one’s new, inspired by my friend Mati), no gorpcore. But the weather this month broke me, and I simply needed a high-quality rain shell that wouldn’t disrupt what I have goin’ on—so I broke one of my rules, and purchased some Arc’teryx. I hate Arc’teryx for the same reason I hate people who drive Range Rovers in major cities: You don’t need AWD to drive down Mercer, in the same way you don’t need tactical gear to smoke a blunt in Tompkins—all shade. I detest the brand’s r/menswear legion, but being a woman in Arky-T just feels like a cop-out. However, there is no copping-out when you’ve just had to endure several consecutive torrentially rainy weekends with a dinky umbrella and a prayer—there’s just copping. And cop I did.
—Maya Kotomori, Assistant Editor
Watched Impractical Jokers: Eighty percent of my personality is my Criterion Collection subscription. I only watch films at select cinemas. I call movies ‘pictures.’ Impractical Jokers is my one dumb indulgence. Murr is my favorite.
—Rooney Choi, Fashion Intern
Read Men in the Sun by Ghassan Kanafani: The first novel by Kanafani—arguably the most influential Palestinian writer of the 20th century. The story, tragic but always topical, follows three refugees across three generations as they attempt to enter Kuwait in the late-’50s, following the colonization of their own land. In the face of social media censorship and bias in the mainstream Western media, it’s difficult to access Palestinian voices; all the more reason to seek out historical texts that lend context to a 75-year struggle for freedom.
—Morgan Becker, Digital Managing Editor
Saw Mary Gaitskill speak at McNally Jackson: I should’ve known the author was going to orate when she walked in wearing an all-blush outfit and declared, ‘I was very into Hell at age six.’ Gaitskill described her new book, The Devil’s Treasure, as an excavation of her previous novels—and for an hour and a half, she took us down those cultural chasms: Catholicism, chatbots (she questions their sentience, but isn’t interested enough in finding out for sure), transhumanism, autofiction. Her honesty and resistance to trends are what make her work so enduring, her personality so refreshing. The only person who I believe should have a podcast, though for now I’ll keep reading her Substack.
—Jayne O’Dwyer, Editorial Intern
Watched three sports documentaries for fun: Lately, I’ve been having to get creative to fill my Monday-through-Thursday TV time, since The Great British Baking Show, The Kardashians, and Bachelor in Paradise air on Friday. I grew up in a ‘sports’ family and never had control over the remote in my parents’ house, because apparently every season is football, baseball, basketball, or something else. I played sports as a kid, but kept the drama alive by only agreeing to do so if my dad was the coach. When his contract ended, mine did too. Streaming services have become dry and barren landscapes to me, and the only chance of hydration these days seems to be sports flicks. I.e. groups of men playing games, jumping up and down while yelling, and high-fiving each other in costumes. This October, I watched Beckham, Mark Cavendish: Never Enough, and Kelce. Takeaways included: Posh Spice is hot; I should use the stationary bike that plagues the aesthetic of my living room; and Taylor Swift just released her version of 1989.
—Syd Walker, Assistant Art & Photo Editor
Said goodbye to Unter: At an immaculate and extremely posh funeral service in Brooklyn, Unter said goodbye in the liminal space between life and death. Maybe the real party was the friends and enemies we made along the way?
—Colin Boyle, Chief of Staff
Rewatched Jennifer’s Body: This October was characterized by what felt like a record-breaking number of rainy Saturdays. This resulted in a lot of time at home with roommates, which often meant putting a movie on the living room TV. In the spirit of the spooky season—and after scrolling through an endless array of seemingly AI-generated scary movies—we circled back to Jennifer’s Body. Every time I rewatch it, I am reminded of what a seminal text it truly is. Karyn Kusama subverts the male gaze, re-coding a succubus-chic sexiness. The result is so hot, yet so haunting.
—Anabel Gullo, Social Intern