Features
Watching What I Can’t Have (A Hit)
Something to know about me in 2025 is that I’ve become the neighborhood voyeur. Four freshly renovated tennis courts opposite my apartment beckon me daily; a hooked index finger tempting me with good, honest time. An hour’s all I need to thrash about, try and prove something inconsequential to myself, defog the mirrors of my mind and leave a better woman. Only instead of playing, I watch.
Portofino or Bust
Sease, with a little help from Feliciano Lopez, takes over the Italian Riviera.
Parting Thoughts From Indian Wells: Bees, Stains & Nicknames
Given our two-week Tennis Garden residency, we can confidently report that the 2025 tournament went off without a hitch—unless you count swirling winds that sometimes stopped play, but Tennis Paradise can hardly be held accountable for that.
