EDITOR’S NOTE
Happy Sunday. By now, you know I take the Candy Beat seriously. My key Halloween finding? Kit Kat’s holiday shapes taste better (the data is clear). Which is why I’m thrilled to report a new, very festive form has landed on shelves, and I’m already two bags deep. A few other things I’m equally enthusiastic about:
Madewell just teamed up with the Cool Girl home store I religiously window-shopped in my old Brooklyn neighborhood. Even better? The prices won’t bankrupt me, so, yes, the pillow and PJ pants are in my cart.
See ya, sleeping-bag-esque puffer coat. Winter’s frumpiest staple is getting a surprisingly elevated makeover — and this Zara one is so I-winter-in-Aspen, I’m almost rooting for a cold snap. Don’t @ me.
My twice-yearly haircut is here, and I’m getting “The Shattered Bob,” which is cropping up everywhere. It grows out seamlessly and looks better the more lived-in it gets. Music to my day-three hair.
The ridiculously simple appetizer that’ll be gone before your guests take their coats off? No, not Pickle Dip. It’s a warm baguette and a certain grocery store’s $6 wedge of French butter. Très chic.
File this under Nepo Babies, They’re Just Like Us: Beyoncé revealed her 9-year-old daughter’s favorite stores, and I’ve been to both in the last month. Rumi, you know who to call for a HomeGoods primer (me).
FEATURED EXPERT:
Melissa Goldberg
Need someone to explain exactly how Katy Perry and Justin Trudeau first met? (Shockingly, it doesn’t have to do with that trip to space.) Or the internet’s obsession with a freaky-looking raccoon named Jimothy? Or what a Dot Cake is and why you should make one? You’ve found your woman.
Melissa Goldberg is the senior editor of the Weekend Skimm, so being chronically online and deeply invested in all things celebrity, entertainment, food, and travel is basically a job requirement. In her role, she edits and oversees the production of theSkimm’s Friday afternoon (Weekend Non-Negotiables), Saturday (Eat, Read, Go), and Sunday (From the Group Chat) newsletters — and is constantly thinking about how to make them even more relevant and compelling for readers.
Prior to theSkimm, Melissa spent just over a decade chasing her teenage dream of being the next Andrea Sachs, Andie Anderson, or People Magazine editor-in-chief. She graduated from Syracuse University’s S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications with a bachelor’s degree in magazine journalism (yes, a thing) and went to work in New York City at O, The Oprah Magazine as a beauty writer and editor before moving to the features department. There, she interviewed celebrities and politicians (Cynthia Nixon, Beanie Feldstein, the late Rep. John Lewis), profiled talented artists (like one of the country’s last disco ball makers), worked alongside Gayle King to produce her monthly column, and wrote ambitious human-interest stories on two tailors providing pro bono suits to wrongfully incarcerated individuals, the first Girl Scout troop for girls living in the New York City Shelter System, and more.
And to answer the obvious question: Yes, she met Oprah, and yes, she was even more magical in person.
These days, you’ll find Melissa in Washington, DC. In her spare time she cooks overly ambitious dinners, attempts to pick up hobbies (the latest: ceramics), reads at a glacial pace, plays with The World’s Best Nieces™, goes to the Dupont Circle Farmers Market religiously, works everything out on the Peloton, and tries as many new restaurants as possible (don’t miss La' Shukran).
🧦 Remember when socks peeking out of ballet flats were a fashion crime? Now the internet is all in on lacy “foot undies” — and yes, they look exactly like Hanky Panky for your feet.
👖 The latest millennial optimism indicator: Skinny jeans are officially cool again. But before you break out that peplum, here are the tops stylish people are wearing with them now.
🐎 Bella Hadid seemingly hard-launched her newish boyfriend, and, shocker, he’s another Horse Guy. God forbid a girl has a type.
👱♀️ Go ahead, hit snooze. These stupidly easy hairstyles are polished enough for the office but fast enough to get you out the door in five minutes flat.
👢 Already uninspired by your holiday party outfits? You don’t need a new wardrobe — just one festive pair of boots. And unlike that sequin minidress, they’ll still earn their keep come January.
We’re calling it: Advent calendars have lost the plot. Yes, we’re talking about Kim Kardashian’s Skims (no relation), which is under fire for approximately the 700th time — not for dropping The Most Terrifying Underwear in History (again), but for selling a $148 advent calendar full of, well, junk. Correction: four key chains, loose hair ties, Skims-branded bobby pins, a bra-strap headband that sent us straight back to middle school soccer practice, and — wouldn’t you know it — more Skims-branded bobby pins. The internet had thoughts. Some wondered if it was a “skam” (klever) or the “Fyre Festival of Advent Calendars.” Others compared the contents to what you’d find under your couch cushions (to quote Natasha Rothwell, “SCREAMING 😂”), your cat’s most prized possessions, and serial killer trophies. And one social media editor brainstormed more items that would fit right in (bury us in the comments section). The backlash got so loud the brand acknowledged that “for some, the calendar didn’t meet expectations” (that’s one way to put it), offered refunds or store credit, and announced there’d be no restock.
Of course, it’s just the latest example of the Advent Calendar Industrial Complex™️. Once upon a time, those little doors hid chocolate and small toys (they were for, you know, children). Now, the merchathon kicks off long before Halloween, with basically every brand releasing a version that, nine times out of 10, is a holly-jolly rip-off. You’d think they’d have pumped the brakes in 2021, when Chanel got roasted for its $825 calendar including *checks notes* an empty dust bag and stickers. Instead, the companies floored it. Sure, there are the chili crisps, cheeses, and vaguely sad beauty options, packed with gift-with-purchase-level samples you’ll never use. Plus, calendars for pets who (a) have no idea what Christmas is and (b) can’t even open them. But then there’s the one shaped like a giant can of Bush’s Beans (with whatever “bean mint surprises” are); Lily Allen’s curated collection of sex toys (Duane Reade bag not included); a drawer’s worth of festive thongs; and 24 days of… ugly medieval cat figurines (???). And since it’s the year of our Lord 2026, there’s also a protein-product version. Because what’s the holiday season without #gains?
What do Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner, Zedd, and Meghan Trainor have in common? A California home with a pub, “perhaps the best-sounding studio in the world,” and a playroom our 9-year-old selves (and, honestly, our current selves) would’ve lost our minds over. In fact, per Architectural Digest, it’s “never been owned by someone without a Wikipedia page.” Now it’s reportedly back on the market. While we wait to see which presumably famous buyer snaps it up (anyone have a spare $18 million?), here are a few other homes with surprisingly star-studded pasts.
🏡 Ellen DeGeneres ➡️ Ariana Grande. Grande purchased the Tudor-style Montecito, California, home in 2020 — and it looks like what you’d get if Kate Winslet’s and Cameron Diaz’s houses in The Holiday had a 5,500-square-foot baby. Fitting, since it’s made of two 18th-century barns from Surrey, England (aka Iris’s stomping grounds), that were taken apart, shipped across the Atlantic, and connected via an orangery (as one does). If anyone needs us, we’ll be contemplating our lives in that soaking tub.
🏡 Charlie Sheen ➡️ Kendall Jenner. You know those videos where furniture flippers paint vintage pieces millennial gray and piss off everyone in the process? That’s basically what Jenner did after buying Sheen’s Beverly Hills mansion in 2017. The vibe went from Tuscan Momcore terracotta floors and Buddha statues to clean-girl paradise. Oh, and Jenner converted the art studio into a fully custom theater — perfect for weekly All’s Fair watch parties.
🏡 Nicole Richie ➡️ Adele. So much for “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house.” In 2021, Adele reportedly bought the place next door to her own from her longtime friend Nicole Richie. Among the Beverly Hills mansion’s most notable amenities? A chicken coop that’s a miniature replica of the house. Guess Richie learned something on The Simple Life after all.
Jordan Mamone, reporting for duty. Maybelline’s 35-year-old tagline was a graceful koan of grammatical symmetry. It was perfect and should’ve been left alone. So naturally, the company revised it into a syntactical mess of puzzling punctuation. Behold: “Maybe. We’re born with it. Maybe. It’s Maybelline.” I understand the impulse to freshen things up. Swapping “she’s” for “we’re” is more inclusive and “extends its meaning from one woman to all women” (not to mention the gents and nonbinary folks who wear Baby Lips or Great Lash mascara). Fair. Admirable, actually. But then we have those weird, unnecessary periods — which Maybelline added, per the global brand president, so “‘Maybe’ is not a doubt or hesitation anymore: ‘maybe,’ period, is a statement of possibility.” Respectfully, no. At best? It looks like the company was Trying. To. Seem. Extremely. Relevant. by evoking a 2010s (maybe older) style quirk that creates emphasis and dramatic effect. At worst? It somehow lends an ominous, existential finality to the classic slogan. It’s as if Maybelline meant to give us a hug and instead made us ponder our own mortality. Worst. Idea. Ever. Maybe.
They say hell is a teenage girl. Now multiply that by a dance team of Catholic schoolgirls with a taste for the occult, and things are bound to get unholy. Set in the era of Juicy Couture tracksuits, Nokia cell phones, and AIM (aka 2004), Netflix’s The Body opens with emergency tryouts for the St. Mark’s Lions, whose star dancer has broken her ankle two weeks before regionals. Enter Grace (Sofia Wylie), a good girl whose uncle is the school priest. Desperate to place, the team convenes on Halloween night at an abandoned convent known as the “devil’s house” to initiate her with an MDMA-fueled ritual that may or may not involve summoning Satan himself. Unsurprisingly, things quickly go sideways, and Grace is found unresponsive in her bedroom the next day. As a wave of mass hysteria threatens to consume the town, expect the religious trauma of Carrie, the campy horror of Jennifer’s Body, and the 2000s nostalgia of Bring It On. Which is to say: Grab a pew, because we’re sat.
Martha, senior commerce writer, here. Last year, I asked for a fresh Lululemon yoga mat for Christmas, after having my previous one for about a decade. Since then, I can’t stop noticing that everyone in my yoga class has the same one — and for good reason: It’s one of the thickest mats you can find (though it also comes in a 3mm version, if you prefer less cushion). The grip is so good that even during the sweatiest hot yoga classes, I don’t need a towel on top to keep my hands and feet from slipping. And, yes, it helps that the marble-esque colorways are pretty.
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🧦 Remember when socks peeking out of ballet flats were a fashion crime? Now the internet is all in on lacy “foot undies” — and yes, they look exactly like Hanky Panky for your feet.
👖 The latest millennial optimism indicator: Skinny jeans are officially cool again. But before you break out that peplum, here are the tops stylish people are wearing with them now.
🐎 Bella Hadid seemingly hard-launched her newish boyfriend, and, shocker, he’s another Horse Guy. God forbid a girl has a type.
👱♀️ Go ahead, hit snooze. These stupidly easy hairstyles are polished enough for the office but fast enough to get you out the door in five minutes flat.
👢 Already uninspired by your holiday party outfits? You don’t need a new wardrobe — just one festive pair of boots. And unlike that sequin minidress, they’ll still earn their keep come January.
We’re calling it: Advent calendars have lost the plot. Yes, we’re talking about Kim Kardashian’s Skims (no relation), which is under fire for approximately the 700th time — not for dropping The Most Terrifying Underwear in History (again), but for selling a $148 advent calendar full of, well, junk. Correction: four key chains, loose hair ties, Skims-branded bobby pins, a bra-strap headband that sent us straight back to middle school soccer practice, and — wouldn’t you know it — more Skims-branded bobby pins. The internet had thoughts. Some wondered if it was a “skam” (klever) or the “Fyre Festival of Advent Calendars.” Others compared the contents to what you’d find under your couch cushions (to quote Natasha Rothwell, “SCREAMING 😂”), your cat’s most prized possessions, and serial killer trophies. And one social media editor brainstormed more items that would fit right in (bury us in the comments section). The backlash got so loud the brand acknowledged that “for some, the calendar didn’t meet expectations” (that’s one way to put it), offered refunds or store credit, and announced there’d be no restock.
Of course, it’s just the latest example of the Advent Calendar Industrial Complex™️. Once upon a time, those little doors hid chocolate and small toys (they were for, you know, children). Now, the merchathon kicks off long before Halloween, with basically every brand releasing a version that, nine times out of 10, is a holly-jolly rip-off. You’d think they’d have pumped the brakes in 2021, when Chanel got roasted for its $825 calendar including *checks notes* an empty dust bag and stickers. Instead, the companies floored it. Sure, there are the chili crisps, cheeses, and vaguely sad beauty options, packed with gift-with-purchase-level samples you’ll never use. Plus, calendars for pets who (a) have no idea what Christmas is and (b) can’t even open them. But then there’s the one shaped like a giant can of Bush’s Beans (with whatever “bean mint surprises” are); Lily Allen’s curated collection of sex toys (Duane Reade bag not included); a drawer’s worth of festive thongs; and 24 days of… ugly medieval cat figurines (???). And since it’s the year of our Lord 2026, there’s also a protein-product version. Because what’s the holiday season without #gains?
What do Joe Jonas and Sophie Turner, Zedd, and Meghan Trainor have in common? A California home with a pub, “perhaps the best-sounding studio in the world,” and a playroom our 9-year-old selves (and, honestly, our current selves) would’ve lost our minds over. In fact, per Architectural Digest, it’s “never been owned by someone without a Wikipedia page.” Now it’s reportedly back on the market. While we wait to see which presumably famous buyer snaps it up (anyone have a spare $18 million?), here are a few other homes with surprisingly star-studded pasts.
🏡 Ellen DeGeneres ➡️ Ariana Grande. Grande purchased the Tudor-style Montecito, California, home in 2020 — and it looks like what you’d get if Kate Winslet’s and Cameron Diaz’s houses in The Holiday had a 5,500-square-foot baby. Fitting, since it’s made of two 18th-century barns from Surrey, England (aka Iris’s stomping grounds), that were taken apart, shipped across the Atlantic, and connected via an orangery (as one does). If anyone needs us, we’ll be contemplating our lives in that soaking tub.
🏡 Charlie Sheen ➡️ Kendall Jenner. You know those videos where furniture flippers paint vintage pieces millennial gray and piss off everyone in the process? That’s basically what Jenner did after buying Sheen’s Beverly Hills mansion in 2017. The vibe went from Tuscan Momcore terracotta floors and Buddha statues to clean-girl paradise. Oh, and Jenner converted the art studio into a fully custom theater — perfect for weekly All’s Fair watch parties.
🏡 Nicole Richie ➡️ Adele. So much for “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house.” In 2021, Adele reportedly bought the place next door to her own from her longtime friend Nicole Richie. Among the Beverly Hills mansion’s most notable amenities? A chicken coop that’s a miniature replica of the house. Guess Richie learned something on The Simple Life after all.
Jordan Mamone, reporting for duty. Maybelline’s 35-year-old tagline was a graceful koan of grammatical symmetry. It was perfect and should’ve been left alone. So naturally, the company revised it into a syntactical mess of puzzling punctuation. Behold: “Maybe. We’re born with it. Maybe. It’s Maybelline.” I understand the impulse to freshen things up. Swapping “she’s” for “we’re” is more inclusive and “extends its meaning from one woman to all women” (not to mention the gents and nonbinary folks who wear Baby Lips or Great Lash mascara). Fair. Admirable, actually. But then we have those weird, unnecessary periods — which Maybelline added, per the global brand president, so “‘Maybe’ is not a doubt or hesitation anymore: ‘maybe,’ period, is a statement of possibility.” Respectfully, no. At best? It looks like the company was Trying. To. Seem. Extremely. Relevant. by evoking a 2010s (maybe older) style quirk that creates emphasis and dramatic effect. At worst? It somehow lends an ominous, existential finality to the classic slogan. It’s as if Maybelline meant to give us a hug and instead made us ponder our own mortality. Worst. Idea. Ever. Maybe.
They say hell is a teenage girl. Now multiply that by a dance team of Catholic schoolgirls with a taste for the occult, and things are bound to get unholy. Set in the era of Juicy Couture tracksuits, Nokia cell phones, and AIM (aka 2004), Netflix’s The Body opens with emergency tryouts for the St. Mark’s Lions, whose star dancer has broken her ankle two weeks before regionals. Enter Grace (Sofia Wylie), a good girl whose uncle is the school priest. Desperate to place, the team convenes on Halloween night at an abandoned convent known as the “devil’s house” to initiate her with an MDMA-fueled ritual that may or may not involve summoning Satan himself. Unsurprisingly, things quickly go sideways, and Grace is found unresponsive in her bedroom the next day. As a wave of mass hysteria threatens to consume the town, expect the religious trauma of Carrie, the campy horror of Jennifer’s Body, and the 2000s nostalgia of Bring It On. Which is to say: Grab a pew, because we’re sat.
Martha, senior commerce writer, here. Last year, I asked for a fresh Lululemon yoga mat for Christmas, after having my previous one for about a decade. Since then, I can’t stop noticing that everyone in my yoga class has the same one — and for good reason: It’s one of the thickest mats you can find (though it also comes in a 3mm version, if you prefer less cushion). The grip is so good that even during the sweatiest hot yoga classes, I don’t need a towel on top to keep my hands and feet from slipping. And, yes, it helps that the marble-esque colorways are pretty.
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