Live From the Office
My first month in Charleston at G&G
Three weeks into my Charleston chapter, the city received its first notable snowfall in ten years—I think that’s a sign but for what, I do not know. I love snow. I took it to mean that I was very welcome here. Considering I have also located a trustworthy bagel shop run by people from NJ/NY and found a yoga studio, I figure I’ve settled right in.
James Island, where I’m living, is a maze of potholed roads (seriously, I feel right at home) lined on every side by the most majestic oaks I’ve ever laid eyes on. Driving feels vaguely Biblical until I hit a patch of asphalt that makes me question the structural integrity of my Subaru. Sometimes I take a wrong turn on purpose just to get to the end of the album playing, probably a live Rush album, and pass once more under the tunnels of moss and branches. Most of the time I’m just lost. Canvassing suburbs on foot to find the most beautiful trees or walking down to a dock to watch pods of dolphins at play, it’s been easy to find the magic.
The routine of working is something I forget I love, though that enjoyment can be almost entirely attributed to the fact that I adore where I work. My first month at Garden & Gun has been nothing short of brilliant. While this was expected (I’m working across desks of editors whose work I’ve been reading and admiring since I was a freshman), there’s no better feeling than having your expectations exceeded. The two other editorial interns I work with are absolute gems and since most of the edit team works hybrid, the three of us sit in the office and work away and rank our favorite G&G covers.
The office is one of the best things about working here. I suspect it has made such a large impact on us as interns because the promise of in-person work tends to be quite a big draw for anyone who attended college, or parts of it, during the pandemic. It feels desperately important to have somewhere to be. G&G’s current office takes up the entire second floor of Charleston’s old (1881) Cigar Factory, where the huge windows filter light into the labyrinth of offices and nooks. It’s so large that the editorial and marketing interns often joke that we never see each other unless we plan to eat lunch together in the hall.
Naturally, there are plenty of historical tidbits embedded in G&G’s office build; for example, the wood paneling was built using salvaged material from racehorse barns. You can sometimes see little crescents where a horse kicked into the soft oak. There are bar carts in half of the offices stocked with bottles from partners and advertisers, I have counted at least three pewter champagne buckets on various windowsills, and there are bookshelves upon bookshelves of cookbooks, coffee table books, and advance reader copies doled out to editors. In the kitchen: Communal Duke’s Mayonnaise in the fridge and an entire shelf of snifters and rocks glasses, the combined vibe of which tells you pretty much everything you need to know. It delights me still and I couldn’t have curated an office more to my taste if I tried.
My absolute favorite thing about this office, however, is the Wall in the edit section. A canvas of magnetic slate taller than I am, this is where the spreads for each issue are printed and posted during production like a physical version of our mocked-up bookmap. One can see the magazine layout from the cover to the final column. Printing and tacking up each print final has been one of my most beloved assignments. It’s immensely magical and exactly what I imagined working at a magazine would look like. Blame the romcoms.
The print production schedule is three weeks on and three weeks off, so this past week was my first exposure to the production schedule for the April/May issue. There are more spreadsheets than I know what to do with and so many meetings and all of it is interesting. The number of hands and eyes that touch a single article is astounding and the teamwork is kind of incredible to watch.
People have been curious as to what exactly my job is; I’m here to report that it varies. One day I might be doing the rigorous fact-checking that G&G is known for and sending out emails to sources, or I might be doing research into off-track festivals, odd animals, or where to go to see synchronous fireflies or rhododendron blooms for the Southern Agenda section. I might be writing up a recipe for an Amaro Old-Fashioned from a new bar in Mt. Pleasant or penning a piece on the South’s Groundhog Day traditions (Texas favors an armadillo named Bob and Georgia’s groundhog lives in a miniature antebellum mansion called Weathering Heights).
Everyone, from my coworkers to the people at the barbecue takeout window, is kind and engaging and this city may make a real conversationalist out of me yet. Having manners is one thing; being able to hold a decent conversation with just about anyone is entirely another. But it’s not difficult to do in an office where every staffer is vastly impressive and helpful and cool.
I feel so surrounded by new friends and old, occupied by work that challenges me, and excited to explore and roam. I’m sure it has something to do with my parents and my time at St Andrews and a million other tiny significant things that have contrived to make me an adult but this has all felt remarkably uncomplicated. I hesitate to describe it as easy because it has taken effort and thought, but the confidence in my current lifestyle feels fresh. Panic isn’t a stranger, but there’s an overarching sense of naturalness that I’ve worked to embrace.
These next few months are going to fly swiftly. I’m going to love it here; I already do, but it’s in no small part due to the people who I’ve already connected with in these four short weeks. One of my most treasured fragments of poetry is from Rolf Jacobsen’s Unthinking: “Within every day there is a small heart / and an open hand.” I can’t think of a better way to approach this period of time; open-handed, with as much room as I can make in my small heart.
My first five-star rating of 2025 went to Mary Doria Russell’s The Sparrow. This is a 90s science-fiction that impressed me—and doesn’t read like the sci-fi you’re thinking of. Yes, there’s AI and an alien planet and space travel, but this is a book about language and linguistics, religion, and humanity. It moves back and forth through time and primarily follows Emilio Sandoz, a Jesuit priest and linguist, before and after he and a ragtag crew take a mission to Rhakat, a planet where they’ve discovered life. The writing in this book is truly outstanding and I found myself attached to so many of the mundane scenes at Anne and George’s table because they displayed friendship so beautifully.
My second five-star went to Gabrielle Zevin’s global 2022 bestseller Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow. This book has one of the most original plots that I’ve come across recently: spanning decades, it follows two childhood friends who come to work in the video game development industry, digging deep into relationships, work-life balance, and the dual beauty and sacrifice that goes into creating a new world. While there were some basic qualms I picked at, the bottom line is that this was incredibly readable—I could not put it down. Also, I haven’t cried this hard while reading in a long time (shocking, I know) and this absolutely wrecked me.
I also read The Lola Quartet by Emily St. John Mandel in my ongoing quest to read her entire canon. In reading her first three books before she shot to fame, it’s been really fun to pick out the undercurrents of great writing and storytelling. You can tell she was just on the cusp of writing something great. I scour Edelweiss daily for news of her far-in-the-future upcoming seventh novel.
Mandel announced a few months ago via Instagram that she’s working on a new novel, Exit Party, and hopes to have it out in a couple more years. Responding to a comment, she mentioned that this novel would connect to the “Mandel-verse” (the commenter’s words, not hers) by including characters from The Singer’s Gun, The Glass Hotel, and Sea of Tranquility. Something I love about Mandel is that she often nestles the same characters and organizations in her books but never appears to have an obligation to directly connect them all or make them part of a series. It’s genius.
I used to harbor a little flame of interest in being in the film industry as a screenwriter or working for the producers who seek out books to adapt, so it tracks that I love companion reading books and their film adaptations. I recently discovered that The Blacklist, a resource where writers and publishers can connect with producers, introduced something called the Adaptation List. Having polled 84 publishing industry editors and agents on which books they would most like to see adapted to film and TV, they put the most repeated titles into a list of 61 books. Whether you’re interested in speculating on A24’s next project or want a book that reads like a movie, this is a brilliantly curated list of titles to put on your TBR.
I suppose I should start with my first meal in Charleston because I’m the type of person to whom that sort of thing always matters. I had underestimated the waitlist situation at Chubbyfish, which apparently is notoriously difficult to get into, and finding ourselves SOL, my mom and I meandered down the street to Chez Nous, which I had heard of only vaguely.
This house-turned restaurant was spilling warm light onto the front walk upon our arrival and a little crockpot-shaped hanging sign with “Chez Nous” penned upon it in cursive swung gently from the porch. Thoroughly charmed, we got a table and feasted on incredible goat cheese-stuffed peppers and a crispy white fish, and topped it off with a pear cake with creme fraiche. Their menu changes daily based on what’s in season and their chef handwrites the menu each evening, which requires the server to go through everything because her handwriting, albeit gorgeous, is impossible to read.
To me, Chez Nous is the lit-from-within, cozy neighborhood spot with incredibly thoughtful food, and I kind of think it’s the type of place Nancy Myers would include in her movies. I know I’ll be returning.
The coffee shops and cafes of Charleston have been the first order of business as places to escape when I don’t have plans or need to get some work done. I’ve frequented a cozy little spot on the weekends here on James Island called Muddy Waters; they have a genuinely good chai latte and a lavender latte that I know my mom would love, and everyone who enters the shop seems to know each other.
Harbinger has been a repeat stop, as Holle introduced me and I spent a great off-day from work there with the other edit interns. They have a dish called “grasshopper toast”—the name absolutely tickles me—that’s a loaded avo toast with garlic cashews, a mix of seeds, sriracha and tahini, and micro greens on a thick slice of semolina toast. It’s transcendent.
And Harbinger’s sister coffee shop, Harken, had a superb sweet potato and apple muffin that I am still thinking about. I’m a sucker for a good breakfast baked good—I get a blueberry muffin every time I go to Muddy Waters, too. What is it about a muffin that goes beyond seasons (comforting in winter, a fun summer breakfast) and mealtimes (good for breakfast or a snack or a midnight bite)?
As for the food I’ve been making, this month has been about getting in the groove. A girl needs to know—how do you cook for one and not get bored of eating the same meal four days in a row? Making dinner for myself and then eating the leftovers as my work lunch for the next three days is fine but the creativity in the kitchen is not flowing. Unlike the Tesco at uni, they don’t have single salmon filets here under $7. Send lunch inspo and tupperware recs because my deli containers will be shot in a couple of months.
Ten (I couldn’t pick just seven) songs that went platinum on my iPod in the 2010s.
Goddess by BANKS
Polish Girl by Neon Indian
Lies by CHVRCHES
Get Up by Washed Out
Call It What You Want by Foster the People
Doors Unlocked and Open by Death Cab for Cutie
Buzzcut Season by Lorde
We Own the Sky by M83
Be Above It by Tame Impala
Fall in Love by Phantogram
My most-played playlist this month was “my 2010s,” perhaps because my birthday is on the horizon, and that always gets me nostalgic. My 2010s were filled with indie and alternative and electronic; so many songs pulled from adventure YouTubers in the PNW, so many pulled from Coachella sets I wish I had been old enough to attend, and so many pulled from friends’ playlists (and their parents’).
Depeche Mode has been on repeat, partially because the yoga teacher I’ve been taking classes with plays solely 90s alt-rock during her classes, and nothing gets me going like “Never Let Me Down Again.” I listened to a ridiculous amount of Depeche Mode in my last two years of high school and it’s some of the only music with such connotations that I willingly continue to listen to. It’s tough to pick between Black Celebration or Violator, but I forgot how much I adored “Happiest Girl (Jack Mix)” off Violator—2:12 to 2:40 has to be my favorite thirty seconds of Depeche. Plus, “Policy of Truth” will be on my top five until I die, and “It’s No Good,” “Personal Jesus,” “Halo,” and “Strangelove” are all golden in my book.
Other 80s albums of the month have been Duran Duran’s Rio (“Save a Prayer” is the best Duran Duran song), The Cars’ Heartbeat City, and Ministry’s With Sympathy (“Effigy (I’m Not An)” and “Revenge” are great). With Sympathy is a great New Wave album by Ministry that they made before going super metal.
Last on rotation is George Clanton. He’s peppered many of my skiing playlists, which I’ve been turning to in my slight bitterness toward missing the season. I can also distinctly remember listening to “Warmpop,” “Make It Forever,” “Kill You In Bed,” “Tie Me Down,” and “Never Late Again” on a literal loop for six hours when Kathleen and I drove to her West Virginia cabin every summer in middle and high school. He changed my perspective on alt-electronic synth wave.
Veronica Beard Miller Dickey Jacket. Easily the most handsome blazer I own. Camel corduroy and dark brown suede elbow patches make it classic and eternally wearable; it’s very easy to dress up or down. I’ll throw it over a white tee with jeans and high tops, or over a button-down with slacks and loafers. It’s also a personal confidence booster—blazers are my kind of armor. They make me feel very put together and tailored, and I always choose to wear them on first days.
Biologque Recherche Lotion P50. Revered by industry gurus, celebrities, and estheticians alike, this toner is a cult favorite and has become a holy-grail product for me in the two-ish years it’s been on my shelf. I fondly refer to P50 as my “sewer water” and once heard it called “Satan’s salad dressing” because it has a semi-funky smell. It’s an exfoliator that I worked up to, purifying and clarifying the skin when used consistently. There are several variations so research which will be best for you, but my go-to is the 1970 formula. Find an esthetician or order it from a spa that’s a licensed dealer, like SkinByAsk or Rescue Spa. It’s potent because it’s a potion!
Edit: In January, the last shipment of Lotion P50 1970 reached the US…and the brand will no longer be selling the product. This is because Phenol, an ingredient in P50 1970, violates new FDA ingredient regulations in cosmetics. This isn’t super surprising, considering P50 1970 has never been allowed to be sold in Europe for some time now, but it’s devastating for those of us who will now have to find new holy grail toners. I stocked up on my last bottle, but BR will still be selling its less potent versions of the toner. RIP, 1970.
Olympia Le Tan Book Clutches. If I won the lottery, I wouldn’t tell anyone, but there would be signs…like me walking around with one of these clutches. Handmade in Portugal, the designer is most famous for her signature clutch bags that are embroidered to look like book jackets. I love the idea of a book clutch (which many designers have riffed on, like this one I’ve been seriously eying) but her cloth and thread versions are stunning. Her Breakfast At Tiffany’s and Gone With the Wind editions are two of my favorites. You may also have seen her recent collaboration with J.Crew—their catalog clutches were genius for marketing and simply beautiful.
I love award season—not so much the actual ceremonies (all the speeches except for the Best Director ones give me second-hand embarrassment) but seeing the nominations, following their trajectory from Cannes or Sundance to the Academy, and watching the red carpet (how else would I know Emma Stone is debuting a new pixie cut) makes for a delightful evening of judgment and commenting on how much Hollywood has changed since I started paying attention to it. One of my favorite things to do during award season is read the books that inspired or provided the backbone for their film and TV counterparts, so below, an eight-book reading list for all of your award season consumption.
The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead. RaMell Ross’ The Nickel Boys adaptation is based on the historic Dozier School, a reform school in Florida that operated for 111 years and was revealed as highly abusive, and the story of two incarcerated boys who struggle to work against a corrupt system.
The Wild Robot by Peter Brown. This animated movie directed by Chris Sanders is about a robot named Roz who wakes up on an island and must befriend its inhabitants, namely a tiny gosling, Brightbill.
Dune by Frank Herbert. The science-fiction epic’s second movie, directed by the great Denis Villeneuve, sees Paul Atreides unite with Chani and the Fremen while seeking revenge against the conspirators who destroyed his family.
Dracula by Bram Stoker. Robert Eggers’ Nosferatu is a loose adaptation of Stoker’s Gothic horror, but since it’s not officially authorized, the names were changed — Count Orlok instead of Count Dracula, for example.
Dylan Goes Electric! by Elijah Wald. Wald dives into the cultural, musical, and personal nuances of the infamous Bob Dylan set at Newport Folk Festival where Dylan “went electric” and debuted “Like A Rolling Stone”. If you’re interested in the new Dylan biopic, A Complete Unknown (dir. James Mangold), this book takes you even deeper.
Conclave by Robert Harris. A political thriller about the strained process of a papal election, this book and the eponymous movie adaptation by Edward Berger starring both Finnes and Tucci are tense and take you deep into the underbelly of the Vatican.
Wicked by Gregory Maguire. You might not have known this was a book before Jon M. Chu created a blockbuster musical, but Gregory chronicles Oz from Elphaba’s perspective, adding depth and adult storytelling to L. Frank Baum’s children’s classic.
Architecture in Uniform: Designing and Building for the Second World War by Jean-Louis Cohen. A non-fiction assessment of the development of architecture and aesthetics after the Second World War, where brutal, stark buildings reflected the state of the nation and its European influences. This is a great companion to Brady Corbet’s film The Brutalist for those curious as to the evolution of this recognizable style.
Thank you all for reading this month! And thanks to everyone who has reached out with well wishes, recommendations, and blessings of luck over the past month. I know it’s been a rough several weeks for the general population and January has felt seventy-four days long, but hang in there, take a breath, and screw your courage to the sticking place. I hope everyone has a truly lovely February full of love and romance, in whatever shape that may take for you!
I sometimes post on Instagram @gracerobrts!
My Goodreads is here and I am always looking for reading recommendations.
My Apple Music is @gracecroberts, where my playlists are regularly updated and cared for.
If you should need to contact me for any other reason, or just want to say hi, my email is gracecroberts@gmail.com.
See you next month!
Sincerely yours,
Grace
Love this one! I’m proud of you for embracing this new season of life! Charleston is lucky to have you!
In person work in gorgeous and historic places with bagels, live oaks and friends to boot!! THIS IS EVERYTHING!!! Love love love love