Hellooooo out there, Spreaders,

Did the Roe v. Wade reversal send you “flocking” to publications aimed at women? Have you found yourself waist-deep in a sea of ladypages, both print and web, as the New York Times suggests? We’re sorry you had to go to all that trouble while the Spread was sweatily attempting to “latch” a brand new human and/or turn in the final draft of our much-anticipated book (The Kingdom of Prep, out in March via Dey Street Books—be among the first to preorder here!). To make it up to you, we’re putting our breast pumps and typewriters (just go with it) aside for a hot second to serve up a list of stories—new and not so new—that we texted each other during our shared carpal tunnel-riddled “downtime” (different causes, same effect!) over these past weeks. We suggest printing and shoving them into your tote for the long weekend. 

Look for the Spread, back in its full-fat glory next month.

Ta-ta for now, 

Rachel & Maggie

• Dreams do come true: Was this story commissioned just to make us feel guilty about being on a Spread break? The great Ariel Levy profiles Spread poet laureate Amy Schumer, hitting basically every note we’ve ever hit, and more, along the way. Read it in the New Yorker here. 

• Recent events—ahem, ahem—have made us wonder how Brad Pitt manages to always stay in our collective favor. Turns out Angelica Jade Bastién has been harboring similar thoughts on this for years! (Thanks to Roxane Gay’s Audacity newsletter for reminding us this piece exists.) Read her rant in Vulture here. 

• In other Jolie-Pitt news: Daughter Zahara has enrolled at Atlanta HBCU Spelman College (awwwww…) proving that kids CAN survive a six year divorce process. Let’s see if we can stretch this dumpster fire to a decade, Angie and Brad! 

• Called it: Lee Pace is the new Brad Pitt. Also, if you still haven’t watched the Spread’s third-favorite workplace epic, Halt and Catch Fire (AMC+), fall is a wonderful time to ponder Pace’s brooding tall-drink-of-water on-screen power! Read the GQ profile by Marisa Melzer here. 

• Wither Wendy Williams? Read about her show’s meltdown in the Hollywood Reporter here. 

• The Wall Street Journal says breakups among work friends are on the rise: We call bullshit! Read it here. 

• As Roe becomes history, the Atlantic’s Annie Lowrey gets personal about the clear and present dangers she faced in pregnancy. We thought we couldn’t read another account of how vicious/traumatic/uncomfortable pregnancy can be. Lowry still managed to open our eyes. Read it here. 

• Gimme an S! Gimme a P! Gimme an R! OK, you get it… Sarah Hepola’s oral history of the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders for Texas Monthly is a fun way to kill, say, the time it takes to wait for your telemed appointment to start when you think you have pink eye. Read it here. 

• The writer of the Cut’s new Meghan Markle cover story is (our) SEX writer! Read “Meghan of Montecito” by Allison P. Davis here and the Daily Mail’s take on Davis nabbing the assignment here. 

• Interior designer and hair icon (for Rachel) Kelly Wearstler is always good for a few quotes that make your eyes pop out of your head. (Paraphrasing here) Q: But Kelly, what about, like, actual food? A: Eff that! Read the full interview with Bon Appetit here.

• Stella McCartney is launching skincare and the Spread is a nation divided: Does Stella look amazing? Or…wierd? Related: How do we feel about Rachel putting (more) money in the pocket of one Hailey Beiber? (Is Beiber’s alien porelessness a hoax perpetrated upon her vulnerable followers…or is that just Maggie’s bitterness talking?) 

• Unpacking that absurd/confusing/confused Linda Evangelista cover story. Reader: The writer wants us to know that Linda is really starting to feel good in her skin again. So British Vogue decided to tape her face into its former shape and shroud the rest of her in fashion that fell a few key millimeters short of a burka. Age (and weight) ain’t nothing but a number, y’all! Read Vanessa Friedman in the New York Times here. 

• If you take one magazine on your Labor Day weekend jaunt: The September issue ofVanity Fair is ur-Vanity Fair. In editorial meetings, making a magazine is never about one story, it’s all about “the mix.” And when the new VF landed, the mix felt just right: An Audrey Gelman profile, a piece on Joan Didion and Eve Babitz’s 1960s friendship, a look inside a juicy real estate battle, a yarn on the “Bitcoin Bonnie and Clyde,” and more. Peek at the issue here. 

• Fresh but not clean: Our favorite maternity leave soap isn’t afraid of grit, grime, and lotsa twerking. Read about Starz’s Mississippi-strip-club-set drama P-Valley in a review by the New Yorker’s Doreen St. Félix here.  It’s high-low heaven.

• Terrifying: Nearly 25 years after the Lizzie Grubman era, Kaitlin Phillips is a new breed of New York publicist. (Some things never change: Amy Larocca is still a master at the art of subtle skewering.) Read it in the New York Times here. 

• Spread devotees know that we can be a little, um, discerning/obsessive/maniacal about baby names. In “Brooding,” her parenting column for the Cut, Kathryn Jezer-Morton calls out our snobbery in the perfectly titled “Why R U Mad at the Name Kayleigh?” Read it here. 

• Proving that her tastebuds really are a little more attuned to The Culture than those of the average food writer, Alison Roman delivers the one recipe that The Bear left us craving. Yaaaaaaas, Chef! Get the spicy chicken piccata recipe here. 

• Kate Moss, party legend, rarely seen without cigarette in hand, now selling herself in Vogue as the new high priestess of health and wellness1—her new organic tincture empire, Cosmoss, is billed as "self-care created for life's modern journeys"—is also the new “creative director” of Diet Coke. (Not gonna lie: knowing Kate is on board does make Maggie feel a little better about her dirty DC habit. Shhhhh.) Google reveals that Kate will also be the subject of an upcoming biopic that centers around her posing for the artist Lucien Freud in 2002. So it turns out her appearance at the Johnny Depp trial was just the beginning of the second (okay, more like twelfth) coming of La Moss.