I survived the first heatwave of summer 2025 without air conditioning by seeing the āBeforeā trilogy for three nights in a row at IFC Center. For dinner each night, I had a Butter burger followed by free gelato samples from Figo across the street.
Iām starting a new thing - come see :)
āAs it turned out, Carroll had been taking groups of strangers to Bergdorf for a couple months before sheād divulged her decades-old secret about Trump. Sheād created a guided Me Too walking tour sheād been advertising on her Instagram, called āThe Hideous Men Tour.ā It took place on the first and third Sunday of each month, and like mobster tours, orĀ Sex and the CityĀ tours, or those of hidden architectural gems, hers was built around landmarks: buildings where famous men had allegedly violated unfamous women. Matt Lauer, Dominique Strauss-Kahn, Bill OāReilly, Roger Ailes, and Trump all made appearances. But Bergdorf was the meeting spot only; Carroll made no mention of its significance. At Trump Tower, Carroll listed off the women who at the time had accused the president of sexual misconduct. She was not included.
This was classic E. Jean: She is in part a performance artist, always lightly prodding. She loves a gimmick and a covert message; sheās game for a clever bit of mischief, and her idiosyncrasies are often revealed to have some careful rationale. But the tour also mimicked the way she had danced with her past since the assault: stepping close and remaining far, repulsed and magnetized ā driven by what had happened, pulling away from it, and coming back.ā ā ā
āE. Jean Carrollās Uneasy Peace, NY Mag
ā overheard on substack
āQue sera seraā
Rodin, Eternal Springtime (1884)
Upon descent into the greater London area, I sat up from lying horizontal in my empty row and opened my window shade to see rows of clouds and a slice of rainbow in the sky above.
I was staying in Marylebone, a neighborhood I chose mainly for its proximity to the park, various transit stations, several points of interest, and the fact that it looks like this on pretty much every side street.
Though everyone told me what a good time to visit Iād chosen, I was trying not to be anxious about the weather. I had accepted that it would probably rain a little bit every day. It was not so. The skies were mainly clear during my visit and the temperatures increasingly warmed each day. There were times I actually started giggling out loud because of how beautiful the weather was, in this notoriously gray place. No wellies or brollies needed to make an appearance this time.
Meanwhile, in New York, it was thunderstorming.
All of Londonās window boxes looked very vibrant and well-maintained. This is cineraria, displaying one of the most VIVID shades of purple Iāve ever seen.
During my visit, I went to The Wallace Collection (see following entry), The National Gallery (pictured here), Sir John Soaneās Museum, The Museum of the Home, the Tate Modern, and the V&A. That is a lot of museum-going in four days. Some spoke to me more than others, but I couldnāt beat the gratis price of all that culture.
The Carlo Crivelli gallery came highly recommended, and Iām glad I was able to spend some time here.
I ambled over to Sir John Soaneās after having lunch in the Cafe in the Crypt. I first found out about this place because it was listed as a āSympathetic Institutionā on The Museum of Jurassic Technologyās website. As longtime readers are well aware, I will travel to the ends of the earth just to spend one hour wandering within the nooks and the perilously narrow crannies of a house-sized wunderkammer.
I also touched something in this museum that I wasnāt supposed to. Oops.
Back out in the world, I went to Cecil Court and made conversation with the eccentric proprietor of an Alice-in-Wonderland-themed shop about Aubrey Beardsley and Oscar Wilde.
He asked where I was from. āNew York.ā āOh, yes, we call that āthe other city.ā
Next door was a metaphysical bookshop with a Thoth-patterned carpet.
Upon learning that I was traveling to London (and staying in Marylebone), many people enthusiastically recommended seeing the Wallace Collection. I made it my first stop off of the plane, and I ended up staying until they closed. I was not prepared for how beautiful and labyrinthine this place was.
Each room was a jewel box.
Communed with āThe Swingā for as long as I could (it was being appreciated by many) because I was struck by how sinister this painting seems when you really look at it. There is a crazed look in the eyes of all the individuals. The statues of cherubs all look anxious or are turned away from the activity. The faded foliage in the distance gives the appearance of both a raging thunderstorm and plumes of smoke. The gnarls of the branches to which the swing is attached even look like faces crying out in pain. Anyway, thatās just my perception of it. The more you look, the more you see.
āThe Kiss Givenā and āThe Kiss Received.ā
Communed for a long time with Canalettoās paintings of the Venetian waterfront. Was so struck by how the tiny tiny lines and dots convey so much expression and intrigue, even in a āday in the lifeā scene like this one.
I turned the corner into this grand hall and was hit with a wave of emotion. My heart fluttered as my eyes filled with tears. I gave thanks and tried to just be here, in the space, without fighting with myself on the meaning of it all.
Shortly after, I realized that I forgot to turn my work notifications off of my phone.
On the evening before my birthday, I headed to Brixton to this striking venue called the O2 Academy. It has a pretty interesting history. It opened in 1929 as the Astoria Variety Cinema, then it was converted into aĀ discothequeĀ in 1972, then reborn as a concert hall in 1983.
The interior of the theater is also incredibly enchanting. Nearly 100 years ago, it was constructed to be Englandās first āatmosphericā cinema. According to my new favorite website, historictheaterphotos.com:
The design followed the trend of the Atmospheric theatre design whereby auditoria were designed to afford patrons the sense of being seated in an exotic garden or courtyard, watching a performance sitting under the night sky with stars twinkling above. The design concept was originated byĀ John EbersonĀ in the United States in the mid-1920s.
An editorial in theĀ London SentinelĀ of 20th August 1929, following the theatreās opening, noted that āLondon has a real American cinema at lastā. It went on to say āIt is done in the subtle Italian type of architecture, that gives the effect of a garden ā in fact, it was exactly like sitting in the open air. [ā¦] There are tall trees along the sides, blue and pink lights twinkle everywhere, and the ceiling of sky blue gives a background to twinkling starsā.
Naturally, this is leading me down an āatmospheric theatersā rabbit hole that I will be needing to explore at length here another time.
I loved the concert so much. It felt very special to be there. The band played two incredible encores - one of which was accompanied by several circus acrobats. Apparently Beirutās latest album was commissioned to score a Swedish circus.
I looked up the set list afterward and turned it into a playlist that Iāve been listening to on repeat.
Alright, skipping ahead a WHOLE DAY (a very nice one that I spent mainly in Shoreditch), I had dinner in Mayfair at a restaurant called Sketch for my birthday. I have been wanting to go to this restaurant for as long as Iāve known about it. For the vibes, obviously. Designed in 1779, the building has previously served as the headquarters of the Royal Institute of British Architects and the London atelier of Christian Diorāthe restaurant opened in 2002. I was smitten immediately with the luxurious mystique of this whole place and they took very good care of me. (I dined in The Gallery this time, but would love to have brunch, high tea, or cocktails in the venueās four other rooms when I visit in the future)
My dinner (grilled Dover sole with pureed potatoes and herb butter with a side of steamed veg) was excellent. And I had a two-course dessert. The first, pictured here, was the Sketch 055: orange confit, cocoa sorbet, crumble, praline and manjari chocolate roulade, mascarpone, and almond paste. Yes, I did look this up quickly before ordering it because the description raised far more questions than it answered.
Needless to say, it was scrummy.
The second dessert was a slice of lemon poppyseed Battenberg cake (not on the menu!) with a candle and āhappy birthdayā message. It was very sweet (literally and figuratively) but I couldnāt resist polishing it off. I saw quite a few of these coming out of the kitchen actually - lots of May 9 babies were in the house that night.
And when they brought the check, they plucked out two pear-flavored, sugar-encrusted gummies from a jar for me. I took a bite out of one but was hopelessly overwhelmed with sugar at this point.
And then an obligatory trip to the restaurantās bathroom to gawk at the rainbow ceiling and the egg toilets. What I was not prepared for was the LOUD bird chirping piped in to hide bathroom sounds. Iām now so annoyed that I didnāt Merlin ID it.
Self-portrait in a convex mirror (with egg toilets)
It was still light out upon leaving the restaurant, and I felt determined to continue squeezing all the birthday juice out of this friday night that I could. What I really wanted to do was ride the double-decker bus aimlessly and appreciate London architecture at eye-level well into the night. I instead took it to the Tate Modern where I had kind of a frantic time trying to take everything in before it closed. Oh well!
The next morning (my last in town), I went to Regentās Park and spent a few perfect, peaceful hours basking in the rose garden.
Said a final goodbye to the blackbirds and wood pigeons. Until next time!
Just around the corner
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