Where’s My Conrad Fisher?
When I die I want my headstone to say I was Team Conrad. I need my future lineage to know I stood on the right side of history when it came to The Summer I Turned Pretty…
Blog
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Entry #1
Entry #1 Written By Emily Malkan Photographed by Dominik Kłeczek Finally leaving Piano Row, I speed walk down Boylston, rushing to make my 2pm in Walker. It’s a sunny Tuesday,…
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I’m Going By Myself (No, You Can’t Come With Me)
I’m Going By Myself (No, You Can’t Come With Me) Written By Lindsay Gould Last week, after my friends and I left the dining hall, someone casually asked what my…
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The Call of Duty
The Call of Duty Written By Lily Brown Hi. I’m Lily Brown—yes, that Lily Brown. Former Your Magazine Creative Director and Managing Editor. I know you’ve missed me (and trust…
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An Apple A Day
An Apple A Day: Should we be taking our orgasms more seriously? Written By Ella Donoghue A very dear friend of mine has a strict orgasm-a-day policy. Like a toddler…
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The Power of the Bleak: An Ode to Sad Art
This admiration for sad art has been present ever since my first memory of connecting to music when I was seven years old: I heard “Für Elise” playing on my mother’s music box, and gasped at how the simple melody tugged at my heartstrings. I felt a mix of emotions I didn’t even know the meaning of yet: gloominess, wistfulness, wonder, and angst…
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Politics… What’s That Got to Do With Broadway?
One night of doom scrolling on TikTok led me to a clip of Cabaret from the 1993 West End Revival. Admittedly, the clip first caught my eye because of a young Alan Cumming, but my focus quickly shifted once I became aware that someone in a gorilla costume was alongside him. I watched the clip through and was struck by the end at the last line delivered…
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Don’t Dog on Sex Toys
I recently began my sex toy journey, and once I stopped giggling about the bucket of dusty pocket pussies in the corner of the sex shop (shout out Good Vibrations in Brookline), I realized some of the adult toys looked eerily familiar…
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The Queer Flow
In middle school, I started filling a journal with ideas of my future girlfriend. Giddy with the thought of my first queer love, I scribbled down every scenario I could think of. Some of them came true. Some of them didn’t. Two queer relationships and a college-hookup-bonanza later, I’m dating a man. After six years of declared lesbianism, this revelation of bisexuality felt like a step back…
