<script data-pm-proxy="intercept"></script><?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0" xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" xmlns:googleplay="http://www.google.com/schemas/play-podcasts/1.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[Portraits]]></title><description><![CDATA[essays & interviews ]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com</link><image><url>https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!gMhT!,w_256,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F4e4652d6-cf4a-400c-96f8-10e19257348c_1113x1113.png</url><title>Portraits</title><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com</link></image><generator>Substack</generator><lastBuildDate>Wed, 02 Sep 2026 01:07:10 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/__u/jorosenthal.substack.com/feed" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><copyright><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></copyright><language><![CDATA[en]]></language><webMaster><![CDATA[jorosenthal@substack.com]]></webMaster><itunes:owner><itunes:email><![CDATA[jorosenthal@substack.com]]></itunes:email><itunes:name><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></itunes:name></itunes:owner><itunes:author><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></itunes:author><googleplay:owner><![CDATA[jorosenthal@substack.com]]></googleplay:owner><googleplay:email><![CDATA[jorosenthal@substack.com]]></googleplay:email><googleplay:author><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></googleplay:author><itunes:block><![CDATA[Yes]]></itunes:block><item><title><![CDATA[A Fair Amount of Failures]]></title><description><![CDATA[In the opening pages of one of my favorite books, Congratulations, Who Are You Again?, Harrison Scott Key writes, &#8220;I have changed a few names in this book and made efforts to downplay the physical hideousness of my enemies, where possible.&#8221; I&#8217;ve followed his lead: names have been altered, and, where possible, I&#8217;ve extended the same generosity.]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/a-fair-amount-of-failures</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/a-fair-amount-of-failures</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Mon, 10 Aug 2026 19:45:31 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/6b25242b-5b46-4908-bdce-cd259300a517_1200x1600.webp" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><span>In the opening pages of </span><em>Congratulations, Who Are You Again?</em><span>, Harrison Scott Key wrote, &#8220;I have changed a few names in this book and made efforts to downplay the physical hideousness of my enemies, where possible.&#8221; </span></p><p><span>I&#8217;ve followed his lead: names have been altered, and I&#8217;ve tried to extend the same generosity. I&#8217;d like to tell you about some of the men I&#8217;ve dated. </span></p><p>J.E.<br>Summer 2015. I got a text at 10:23 am on June 17th that read, &#8220;I&#8217;m so sorry you haven&#8217;t heard from me in a few days. I just got out of jail for a graffiti charge. It was stupid of them to arrest me. I only climbed up 15 floors and out of an abandoned apartment window just to write my name. No one got hurt&#8230; except for the cop who said he was disgusted that he had to see my crotch. My pants fell down because I had to give him my belt when they booked me. I&#8217;m dealing with some extreme gas right now, but maybe in a few days you can come over and watch me draw? Let me know&#8230;&#8221;</p><p>S.G.<br>His sister gave me a jar of beef tallow, saying it would be good for my skin, but I got a horrible rash that lasted for weeks. It turned out he was dating two women at once, me and some other bitch. She got to see the city, while I only saw the inside of his bedroom. Mattress on the floor, Bible on the coffee table, only dried pasta and orange juice in the fridge. One towel, no soap in the bathroom, toothbrush whittled down to the last bristles from his anxiety. He lived in a walk-up on the west side, four flights up, with a view of the Hudson if you squinted hard enough. I wonder if the other girl also stole a pair of his boxers and wore them as if they were some kind of trophy.</p><p>K.M.<br>On a &#8220;break&#8221; with his girlfriend, whom he was actually cheating on. He said he loved watching me write. There&#8217;s something to be said for persistence - he wouldn&#8217;t leave me alone. When I gave him a chance, he said he was busy with work, but he was actually hooking up with someone I would eventually become really close friends with. The funny thing about 2021 is that my friend and I have the exact same image in our camera rolls: separate photos of each of us lying in his bed, taken the exact same week. I&#8217;d wish him unwell, but I don&#8217;t wish him anything at all. He got in trouble at work for being creepy to too many young women. Consequences find you when you&#8217;re an ugly guy with a unibrow and a bad personality from New Jersey.<br><br>J.V.<br>I told him I wanted to do something grand for our first date, or I wouldn&#8217;t go on a date with him at all. He suggested we drive to the middle of North Carolina to see the eclipse. He wore tighty-whitey&#8217;s and had teeth that looked like Chiclets. He was in a band, but he said he barely knew how to play any instruments and only knew how to press buttons on a synth. I told him I didn&#8217;t think he was a real musician because he didn&#8217;t write music or lyrics, only &#8216;composed&#8217; it - whatever that means. I was mean because I wanted him to get away from me. I know three other women he&#8217;s kissed, and we all look the same. He&#8217;s bald now, and his teeth look like fresh corn kernels instead of Chiclets. </p><p>B.C.<br>I walked into a party, and the most beautiful woman there approached me. &#8220;I&#8217;VE ALWAYS WANTED TO MEET YOU, BUT I&#8217;VE BEEN SCARED BECAUSE I&#8217;M WORRIED YOU WON&#8217;T LIKE ME.&#8221; She had dated my first long-term boyfriend after I did, and she was worried that even saying his name would trigger me. She made me guess who it was, and I couldn&#8217;t remember at first. She said he loves to tell anyone who will listen how much he hates me. He tells people I gave him cancer, as though it&#8217;s physically possible. As I sipped a rum and Coke, the beautiful woman told me she was much happier after dumping him because he used to yell at her all the time &#8212; and when he wasn&#8217;t yelling, he was crying. Then she said, &#8220;We have to be best friends because we&#8217;ve essentially shared saliva!&#8221;</p><p>M.M.<br>He worked at a surf shop in the mall and had a tattoo of an infinity sign on his wrist. He loved playing acoustic guitar, and I tried not to laugh as he played an extended version of &#8220;Iris&#8221; by the Goo Goo Dolls for me, tears streaming down his face as he sang.</p><p>J.W.<br>We went out to dinner, and when we came back, his bedroom door was locked, and his roommate was having a big house party. His roommate said that two people in his room were &#8220;doing it in his bed,&#8221; and he wanted the guy to get lucky, so he just let them and didn&#8217;t think it was a problem. My date said we should wait outside until they were finished because he didn&#8217;t want to &#8216;ruin the moment,&#8217; and that after they were done, he wanted to set up his projector so we could watch some animated movies that his dad made.</p><p>J.D.<br>The first and only time we hung out, he told me the only reason he asked me to hang out was because I was the only girl who wasn&#8217;t busy on Christmas. He was the hairiest person with the biggest receding hairline. I didn&#8217;t know it was possible to have both. I knew it was a bad sign when my cat peed on his pants, but the joke was on him because he had to wear them home that way. He told me he tried to soak them but had to throw them away, and Venmo requested more than the amount of the pants because he said being with me cost him more than he gained.</p><p>G.C.<br>My high school boyfriend. He now has two kids with two different women. He messaged me a few years ago to ask if I&#8217;d ever be interested in being a stepmom. He said that although he was still with his second wife, if I said the word, he&#8217;d leave it all behind, bring the kids with him to New York, and start a new life with me. One of his kids is named Gator.</p><p>J.W.L<br>He called me &#8216;old lady&#8217; because I was 27 and he was 25. The age difference eventually disgusted him. He told me it&#8217;s okay that he slept with all of his female friends because it&#8217;s the only way to actually know who is a real friend. He&#8217;d leave letters in my mailbox about how fate would someday bring us back together. He told me he didn&#8217;t really learn how to read until high school because it wasn&#8217;t that important if he was going to be a touring musician. All of his bottom teeth were rotten, but he said it was okay because all rockstars have that problem.</p><p>*</p><p>*<br>*</p><p>*</p><p>*</p><p>More anecdotes to come&#8230;</p>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Meanest Girl]]></title><description><![CDATA[No One Starts Out as One of Them]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-meanest-girl</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-meanest-girl</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Sun, 12 Jul 2026 15:42:59 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/dffeed0e-58c4-4149-92de-548616d60f96_502x398.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><span>The mean girl doesn&#8217;t disappear after high school.</span></p><p><span>She moves to New York.</span></p><p><span>She&#8217;s the girl who calls you a cruel name in front of another group of girls because making you feel smaller makes her feel bigger. She&#8217;s the girl who corners you in the bathroom at the party when she realizes you&#8217;re the only one in there, just to tell you she hates you. She&#8217;s the g&#8230;</span></p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Swap]]></title><description><![CDATA[Trading clothes and recommendations, too.]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-swap</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-swap</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Mon, 15 Jun 2026 17:04:06 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!WQjm!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F992baf97-4853-4db4-9e26-3e65ce83b674_4541x3294.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I met Sasha Frolova when we were 16 at a boarding school in Napa. I decided to go to boarding school because I was having a terrible time at my own high school and felt the only way to fix it was to run away. It was the best decision I&#8217;ve ever made. We were 16, new to our independence, and set free by a group of professors who treated us like the adults&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Clown]]></title><description><![CDATA[Portraits No.2: Alayna Perry]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-clown</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-clown</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 29 Apr 2026 16:10:16 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!jU73!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fda12fafe-9a27-4cf3-9388-d85fc32d6cee_6240x4160.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Alayna Perry is a clown. Some say &#8216;of course,&#8217; others say &#8216;define clown.&#8217; With doll-like features and perfect posture, she&#8217;s a classic beauty like a young Mia Farrow, but better, because if credentials matter, she&#8217;s got a honking red-nose certificate delivered by the upper echelon of clowns. She is meant for the limelight because she&#8217;s someone you&#8217;d onl&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Chill Wizard]]></title><description><![CDATA[Portraits 1: Alexandre Stipanovich]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-chill-wizard</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-chill-wizard</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Tue, 24 Feb 2026 20:33:49 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/709234c6-cf32-4b91-98b6-27c6d04cb64e_5148x2896.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Your next favorite New Yorker might be just behind the next door you open. Take Alexandre Stipanovich: the scientist and musician believes the world needs more trust and care &#8212; but really, it needs more people like him.</p><p>Stipanovich runs <em>Cascades Analytics</em>, a pharmaceutical consulting and media bureau focused on psychedelic research, and the music project </p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Something New]]></title><description><![CDATA[New column alert!]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/something-new</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/something-new</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Mon, 09 Feb 2026 21:17:55 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/719a83cd-20ae-4ec6-ac4e-137f33cd54af_705x900.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I started this for a guy. He was blonde and recently divorced, and it was 2022. I used my writing as an excuse for the wrong attention. I wrote about my dating life in real time while smirking at my computer with joy on late nights. I wanted the attention of many people I wrote about, like guy, so &amp; so, him, that guy &amp; the other one. I felt on top of th&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Four Days in Portugal]]></title><description><![CDATA[Two Tuesdays ago, Justin texted to ask if I was free to fly to Portugal that Friday to meet with APICCAPS, the Portuguese Footwear Association.]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/four-days-in-portugal</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/four-days-in-portugal</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 29 Oct 2025 17:09:34 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/6ba4007c-804d-4a9d-bb03-e798395f50e0_3024x4032.heic" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Two Tuesdays ago, Justin texted to ask if I was free to fly to Portugal that Friday to meet with APICCAPS, the Portuguese Footwear Association. I was already behind on a ton of work, but something in me knew I couldn&#8217;t turn down the chance to travel halfway across the world to talk about shoes.</p><p>A few hours before my flight, I crammed as many clothes as p&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[On Quitting]]></title><description><![CDATA[I have this vivid memory: my dad holding me in his arms, a cigarette between his fingers.]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/on-quitting</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/on-quitting</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Thu, 26 Jun 2025 20:47:39 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!K0tx!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe8b1899f-c095-42f9-83e8-3e12982713c5_1512x2016.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I have this vivid memory: my dad holding me in his arms, a cigarette between his fingers. I don&#8217;t know if it actually happened or if it&#8217;s something I&#8217;ve imagined so many times it started to feel true. But either way, it felt like the beginning. Not of the smoking itself, maybe, but of whatever it is that makes a person attach themselves to things they&#8217;l&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Voice That Said I Couldn't]]></title><description><![CDATA[Not All Lessons Come with Kindness]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-voice-that-said-i-couldnt</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-voice-that-said-i-couldnt</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 30 Apr 2025 16:47:54 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/a83d9210-fbe5-4f94-b0ca-e5ad3ed52c64_1200x900.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><strong>I have learned to forgive, but never to forget.<br></strong><br>And I will never forget Mrs. Pringle, a teacher I had in high school, who recently met up with fellow classmates, and when asked why she bullied me, she said something like, &#8220;Because it was too easy.&#8221;</p><p>I went to DASH &#8212; Design and Architecture Senior High &#8212; in sunny Miami, Florida. It was the kind of school th&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Losing to the Machine]]></title><description><![CDATA[At this point, I&#8217;ve accepted that I will never be the best at anything.]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/losing-to-the-machine</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/losing-to-the-machine</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 05 Feb 2025 23:07:49 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/b24af90e-8c8d-4fa0-876d-0703462ad154_1000x1143.webp" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>At this point, I&#8217;ve accepted that I will never be the best at anything. This is not because I lack talent but because there is always a robot willing to do my job faster, cheaper, with less attitude, and with a terrifyingly good grasp of grammar.</p><p>I moved to New York with plans to become a fashion writer, land an editorial job, and write multiple pieces f&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Lost and Found in New York]]></title><description><![CDATA[A story about fashion in New York City]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/lost-and-found-in-new-york</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/lost-and-found-in-new-york</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 20 Nov 2024 18:47:24 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/edd826ed-0314-40ce-b8f4-389c35164a68_1280x720.webp" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>The city always feels infinite, as if it stretches wider and taller the more I walk through it. There&#8217;s a strange comfort in how New York lets you get lost wildly when you&#8217;re clawing your way up. I moved here with everything I owned. When you haven&#8217;t made it in New York, the city is loud and relentless, with every cracked sidewalk and sour smell remindi&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Getting Dressed]]></title><description><![CDATA[Interrupting your regularly scheduled programming...]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/getting-dressed</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/getting-dressed</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Fri, 30 Aug 2024 20:51:14 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/c005b5af-2320-4726-9867-50ca0118edc8_3088x2048.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>At a young age, I was told that anyone could make art. I always knew it was true, especially when my cousin told me she thought she was bad at it. Saying that you can&#8217;t make art limits yourself from all the art you could be making if you sat down with a pencil in hand. </p><p>I feel the same way about style. Sure, not everyone has taste, but everyone has a sty&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[For Mom]]></title><description><![CDATA[Days of Sunshine were filled with tuna fish on white or turkey on whole wheat with extra mayo, mini Oreos in a plastic bag, and frozen grape juice. Baby carrots or green grapes packed school lunches with the proper nutritional value because it was essential to have a balanced meal. Or something along the lines of all organic and Hostess cupcake approved. Other kids were handed cash to get chicken fingers or pizza, but I stuck to eating peanut butter and jelly or a smushed brownie because &#8216;love&#8217; was the one ingredient that the lunch ladies didn&#8217;t use.]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/for-mom</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/for-mom</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Tue, 21 May 2024 01:06:13 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/5e7bcbaa-30b8-4cca-812e-3a1dea2f820b_2107x1580.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Days of Sunshine were filled with tuna fish on white or turkey on whole wheat with extra mayo, mini Oreos in a plastic bag, and frozen grape juice. Baby carrots or green grapes packed school lunches with the proper nutritional value because it was essential to have a balanced meal. Or something along the lines of all organic and Hostess cupcake approved&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Two Cherries on Top]]></title><description><![CDATA[It dawned on me while writing this piece that I had this assignment once before. As a freshman in college, we were asked to write about it without using any keywords that had to do with it. No mushy, no fuzzy. Nothing too obvious. The professor just said, &#8220;Write about &#8216;it&#8217; so that we know what you&#8217;re saying without having to say it. Saying it is &#8216;cheap.&#8217; Writing about it is one of the hardest things to do because not everyone experiences it. It&#8217;s easier to write about pain or how unfunny the world is. It takes someone bold and someone brave to write about it truthfully&#8230;.&#8221;]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/two-cherries-on-top</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/two-cherries-on-top</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 24 Apr 2024 12:20:59 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/b16cadac-9263-4452-bc10-2d962778700e_870x640.png" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>It dawned on me while writing this piece that I had this assignment once before. As a freshman in college, we were asked to write about it without using any keywords that had to do with it. No mushy, no fuzzy. Nothing too obvious. The professor just said, &#8220;Write about &#8216;it&#8217; so that we know what you&#8217;re saying without having to say it. Saying it is &#8216;cheap.&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Kill Fee ]]></title><description><![CDATA[One year ago, I was assigned the biggest story of my career (thus far) for a magazine I&#8217;d give up my firstborn to write under. For days, I isolated, thinking and working on nothing but this piece. The editor rejected it in totality, saying, &#8220;It isn&#8217;t what we are looking for.&#8221; I apologized for not understanding. Writing for this outlet had been ruminating in my soul for years. That loss and a 101-degree fever brought a few lifestyle changes. I haven&#8217;t pitched a fashion story since. But&#8230;]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-kill-fee</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-kill-fee</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Mon, 05 Feb 2024 19:44:03 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/a9f5a032-bec0-461b-b24f-45bf7f261abb_640x954.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>One year ago, I was assigned the biggest story of my career (thus far) for a magazine I&#8217;d give up my firstborn to write under. The editor rejected it in totality, saying, &#8220;It isn&#8217;t what we are looking for.&#8221; That loss and a 101-degree fever brought a few lifestyle changes. I haven&#8217;t pitched a fashion story since.</p><p>Every passing day comes closer to another &#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Kiss]]></title><description><![CDATA[Through perfectly falling snowflakes, the sun was shining, and the clouds were arranged like hydrangeas covered in glitter. Inside, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and thought about the kiss and how, if this is what it&#8217;s supposed to feel like, I hope it lasts forever.]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-kiss</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-kiss</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Thu, 18 Jan 2024 17:44:23 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/ca59328e-d6d6-4f9a-a668-e032ac2a3dd6_1109x1200.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Through perfectly falling snowflakes, the sun was shining, and the clouds were arranged like hydrangeas covered in glitter. Inside, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and thought about the kiss and how, if this is what it&#8217;s supposed to feel like, I hope it lasts forever. </p><p>I didn&#8217;t think about anyone else, my debts, the two pimples slowly turning int&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Biggest Impression]]></title><description><![CDATA[A 663 Word Love Story]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-biggest-impression</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-biggest-impression</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Tue, 26 Dec 2023 16:39:50 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/ccab9d72-47a5-406f-8db4-aaa9e5477acd_500x597.gif" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I met him in the sparkle that is December. I noticed him the way I noticed every person I&#8217;d ever admired- from afar, at a party, staring off into the distance. He looked like every good dream I&#8217;d ever had. The first time we spoke, I noticed a twinkle in his eye that reflected a twinkle in mine that I thought had disappeared months ago. </p><p>He was tall with &#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[9 Dates]]></title><description><![CDATA[Authors note: This piece was written and read aloud at Confessions: a series by Cassidy Grady, which can be seen every other week at Sovereign House in New York. Pieces are based off confessions written in a telephone booth at the theater. * I went on 9 dates last week. It was easier than you think. I only had to download one dating app and go out every night. Who would have thought that that&#8217;s all it would take? If I knew it would thrill me this much, I&#8217;d go on 9 dates every week.]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/9-dates</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/9-dates</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Mon, 13 Nov 2023 04:47:21 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/36832639-4b38-458d-ab69-ffa06ac383da_2038x2038.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>This piece was written for and read aloud at Confessions: a series by Cassidy Grady, which can be seen every other week at Sovereign House in New York. Pieces are based on confessions anonymously written in a telephone booth at the theater. </p><p>*</p><p>I went on nine dates last week. It was easier than you think. I only had to download one dating app and go out ev&#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[I Used to Think About Jake ]]></title><description><![CDATA[I was wearing a short red dress when he looked me in the eyes and said that he wasn&#8217;t physically or emotionally attracted to me and that the only reason he let it drag on for so long was because I seemed so happy. I ran away crying. My mom says that he was the stupidest person I ever dated, but I believe that his crooked smile deepened my understanding of what love means, however humiliating I often find it to be.]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/i-used-to-think-about-jake</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/i-used-to-think-about-jake</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Tue, 03 Oct 2023 02:42:54 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/24b1a6ab-f428-4945-9912-9164f8dfd6df_4032x3024.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I was wearing a short red dress when he looked me in the eyes and said that he wasn&#8217;t physically or emotionally attracted to me and that the only reason he let it drag on for so long was because I seemed so happy. I ran away crying. </p><p>My mom says that he was the stupidest person I ever dated, but I believe that his crooked smile deepened my understanding &#8230;</p>
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   ]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Little Sister]]></title><description><![CDATA[I wake up crying from a horrible nightmare. I&#8217;m eight years old and I sleep in my mom&#8217;s bed every night because sleeping alone at that age is daunting. My mom comes into the room and asks me what&#8217;s wrong. I tell her about this dream I had where my brother Emerson, who is three years older, stops talking to me because he&#8217;s dating a model named Everlyne and she told him that he&#8217;s not allowed to talk to me anymore. She&#8217;s beautiful. An 11 anywhere in the world, but a monster in my nightmare.]]></description><link>https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-little-sister</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://jorosenthal.substack.com/p/the-little-sister</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Jo Rosenthal]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Sat, 19 Aug 2023 01:14:30 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/17bc5fd2-e9fc-49e9-a686-ad01f66835bf_3264x2448.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I wake up crying from a horrible nightmare. I&#8217;m eight years old and I sleep in my mom&#8217;s bed every night because sleeping alone at that age is daunting. My mom comes into the room and asks me what&#8217;s wrong. I tell her about this dream I had where my brother Emerson, who is three years older, stops talking to me because he&#8217;s dating a model named Everlyne a&#8230;</p>
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