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Lessons for Next Time

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Lessons for Next Time

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Lessons for Next Time is a recurring publication in the Collected Agenda archive, appearing 1 times across 1 issues between October 23, 2024 and October 23, 2024. The archive places it in contexts such as “Vivien writes a substack titled Lessons for Next Time which is loosely tied to the theme of detachment”. It most often appears alongside Alimentari Flaneur, Andrew, Ani.

Metadata

  • Category: Publications
  • Mention count: 1
  • Issue count: 1
  • First seen: October 23, 2024
  • Last seen: October 23, 2024

Appears In

Source Context

Recovered passages from the original issue text. When the raw archive preserved outbound links inside the source passage, they are listed directly under the quote.

Collected Agenda with Vivien Lee
October 23, 2024 · Original source
Vivien Lee is a writer and copywriter from Northern Virginia. I invited her to Guest Edit immediately upon first reading her work, mostly because I was struck by her voice – unique in its ability to merge cool elegance with visceral, aesthetic, and physical engagement. Vivien writes a substack titled Lessons for Next Time which is loosely tied to the theme of detachment. She describes the Substack as an exercise in exploring her tendency towards aloofness as a person. She does this vividly with essays such as going to the opera in my red miu miu heels during a storm - emotionally untethered, yet sharp and grounded in its aesthetic pinpoints and moments of vulnerability. Vivien has written for The Cut, Architectural Digest, Family Style, and elsewhere, covering art, sex, love, design, music, books, history, film. Last summer, she taught a writing workshop on speculative fiction at the School of Visual Arts. Lately, she has been quietly exploring fiction and screenwriting. She cites Clarice Lispector, Carl Jung, Simone Veil, and June Jordan as voices she finds timeless. She is drawn to symbolism, abstract concepts, psychology, and the metaphysical… topics that transcend the ordinary. If Vivien Lee was not a writer, she probably would have pursued a career in psychoanalysis. WHAT VIVIEN LEE DID Friday, October 11 It’s my day off and I text Ani, who is back in New York. We meet to get lymphatic drainage massages at Pure Qi, which is like a neti pot for your nervous system. I’m addicted, and need one once a month. At the appointment, she surprises me with a gift — a pair of Betsey Johnson stilettos — that look like Beetlejuice and Barbie had a lovechild. After our massage, we try to get a table at Bernie’s. I’ve heard their burgers are good (I am a burger connoisseur, in case you didn't know) but the wait is 3 hours long, so we opt for Five Leaves. Ani orders a salmon and I ask for the shepherd’s pie. We discuss the play we are working on, along with other things, like the mysteries of vigorous bonding and the embarrassments of “being known”. Ani teaches high school and writes fiction. Most of my close friends, now that I think about it, are either teachers, therapists, artists, or writers. Ani and I get along, I think, because we both understand the value of privacy, and the sense of self that stems from solitude, which often feels lonely at times. With Ani, we can each share our loneliness without drowning the other in it. And that is nice. Sunday, October 12 I spend the morning reading Karmic Traces by Eliot Weinberger. I’m one of those people who will delay finishing a book if I am enjoying it too much. I grab the latest issue of Harper’s and skim through Lauren Oyler’s cover story. I don’t know why everyone hates her. My boyfriend takes me to Duals Natural to go spice shopping. I’ve been curious about white pepper, which is apparently earthier, milder, and more umami than black pepper — usually used in Asian dishes. We restock the staples: cumin, coriander, marsala, ceylon, bay leaves, along with basmati rice and various blends of tea. My grandmother warned me not to buy anything grown in China because of the pollution — unconfirmed, but fine — I decide not to get the pu’erh this time. A few years ago for my 30th birthday, my friend Soraya surprised me with the most perfect parcel of spices, tea, perfume, and wine. Sumac with tinned cod in biscayne sauce is a doomsday prepper’s delicacy. That little canned fish was so precious to me that I ended up hauling it around in my suitcase through three different countries “in case of emergencies”. Gift your loved ones non-perishables… a gesture of thoughtful care and preservation, symbolic of a friendship with no shelf life. For dinner, I make a mille-feuille nabe (nappa cabbage and pork hot pot dish) in a clay pot. It’s simple, yet decadent. Just my taste. All you need is cabbage, thinly sliced pork (or beef if you so desire), ginger, soy sauce, water. I use miso paste in lieu of dashi and a splash of fish sauce. The white pepper adds a nice subtle kick. Thursday, Oct 14 I don’t like to talk about my job because I tend to be precious about things, which is why I love NDAs. I enjoy being in an office again though, and dressing up to start your day for who-knows-what-drama! After work, I make a trip to Eataly, and have my mind blown because I’ve discovered kiwi berries. On my way out, I fill a cellophane bag with an assortment of Italian chocolates (Venchi, the best) and grab a box of lemon amaretti cookies for a friend’s mom’s going away party later in the week. I love shopping for gifts because I’ll be walking around the city with nothing but three different types of dessert and exotic fruit in my purse and nobody knows it. PS. I want to befriend everyone’s moms. When Andrew and I started dating, he was working for WNYC, and we talked about the station’s struggle to survive ever since Giuliani cut funding for public media. On the evening of their 100th anniversary, we turned on the radio, and while listening to the analog tradition, enforced a rule that we would eat dinner together as often as we could. That night, I made us a seaweed omelet with rice, mackerel, and fermented pollock roe... a meal I often had with my family back home, when we still ate together. Tonight, we’re celebrating 7 months (which feels like 2 years in New York time) and for dinner he’s making us chicken meatball soup adapted from this NYT recipe. Saturday, Oct 19 I’d like to contend that today is the last nicest day of the year. I have plans to hit some golf balls at the Chelsea Piers driving range, because I’m feeling a lot of pent up energy from last night’s full moon. On my way over, I walk down 14th and look at what the girls are wearing. Straight black denim over square toe boots. Mini claw clips and messy half pulled ponytails. Sleek shoulder bags. Sporty pullovers and tailored houndstooth pants. Quarter-zip sweaters. Trench coat, trench coat, trench coat. Ralph Lauren is in the air. Next to my favorite burger joint, I have yet to find my favorite Italian restaurant in New York. Coastal elite “European cuisine” is an elusive concept to me. Don’t get me wrong — I love to keep up my inconceivable spending habits on niche and aspirational dining, but I prefer an honest plate of pasta made by someone’s 100-year-old grandmother in their kitchen any day (hello, Pasta Grannies). I do like Bamonte’s, because having angry centenarian waiters throwing plates of mediocre food at you creates the same comforting effect, to a degree. Andrew asks if I want to try Emillio’s Ballato, but I’d remembered my friend Daniel of Alimentari Flaneur told me his favorite Italian spot is Il Buco in NoHo, so we book a reservation. Their menu is technically “Mediterranean” and changes every day. We order the octopus with sweet potato, roasted lamb and broccoli rabe, and the orecchiette with eggplant and sausage. Everything is rich, especially the olive oil. The atmosphere is dark and rustic. Cozy romantic. I need a nap. WHAT VIVIEN LEE THINKS YOU SHOULD DO Visit Family Social activism, by its definition, is the practice of working toward the reform of relations and expectations, however that looks. It doesn’t always have to be about protests or shouting the loudest. Sometimes, it’s more private. One form, for me, has been returning to my family. Our first source of error. As I get older (I need to stop saying that), I find myself craving connections that aren’t so seeded in the economy of validation. Wanting to sit with discomfort and tension without completely losing myself to it. Also, learning to forgive. I mean really forgive. Get a New Scent It’s the next best cure for seasonal depression. These are my current favorites, powerful and sweet with patchouli as their thread-through. YOU KISSED ME IN PARIS by Lazarus
Inline links: Lessons for Next Time, going to the opera in my red miu miu heels during a storm, Ani, Pure Qi, Betsey Johnson, Bernie’s, Five Leaves, Karmic Traces, Lauren Oyler’s cover story, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!CX7t!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fee318a9e-fb9d-4df4-a793-2afac060ca87_1600x1200.jpeg, Duals Natural, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!sp4x!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ff8abf7d2-4d40-43ef-9acf-e33c9c4a382b_1600x1200.jpeg, Eataly, WNYC, recipe, https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!KeRg!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Ffcffcd2f-9edd-4695-80a8-81d300b01e87_1600x1200.jpeg, Chelsea Piers, Ralph Lauren, Pasta Grannies, Bamonte’s, Emillio’s Ballato, Alimentari Flaneur, Il Buco, YOU KISSED ME IN PARIS by Lazarus

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