Nora Ephron Fall
The summer makes me profoundly sad. On more than one occasion, I have sulked around, listening to the Charlie Brown Christmastime song, sweating melancholically, full of unprovoked sorrow. If I have to explain why, it’s pathetic, but I often feel like I go through the motions of having fun more than actually “having fun.” Gross. Back to school, however? Best time of the year. I used to get so excited I’d puke a little. Excitement and anxiety are apparently the same things physically, which explains my entire personality.
My friend Anna’s son is the same way. It is fun to feel kindred with a 7-year-old Libra, it reminds me I haven’t completely snuffed out my own light despite buzzkill tendencies. She reminded me of this festive quote from You’ve Got Mail:
Don't you love New York in the fall? It makes me want to buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address.
The invocation of Nora Ephron is something that will always make my head dramatically spin around and snap to attention like an owl. This year, I have felt particularly drawn to her work – picking up Heartburn, I Feel Bad About My Neck, and I Remember Nothing in addition to watching some of her movies that didn’t reach When Harry Met Sally heights (like My Blue Heaven and This Is My Life). Intellectual, cynical women are catnip to me, and every dip back into Nora’s oeuvre was like the kind of nervous system reset I see people achieve by dunking their full heads into bowls of ice water on TikTok. Listening to her audiobooks recreates one of my favorite experiences one can have in L (life): going out to lunch with a friend and gossiping for 3 hours. It is my hope that hell is a sea of cafeteria tables where you compete to sit next to the bitchiest conversationalists. I can’t wait to go.
Though there is much to be said about Nora, and much beyond what she is often reduced to (the queen of romantic comedy) – Rachel Syme’s recent piece in the New Yorker shines a light on this disservice – what I would like to give you is some pointers on how to have a Nora Ephron Fall (I was clearly also having a Nora Ephron Summer but for those of you who are good at having fun, it’s good variety).
Disclaimer: I cannot pretend I invented Nora Ephron Fall. The fickle trends of the internet and how we speak on it birthed it out of necessity, out of circumstance, as a gangly stepdaughter to Hot Girl Summer. Last year, I stumbled upon this playlist and began employing it on my stupid walks around the neighborhood (is there any song more Fall than “Linger” by The Cranberries?). And because of Meg Ryan’s fashions in When Harry Met Sally, Ephron is synonymous with autumn and particularly autumn in New York. Not to bring up TikTok a second time in the same breath (if you want to see my screentime stats, you’ll have to kill me), but I’ve seen a girly or two recreate their favorite Meg looks in preparation for the fall.
It is adorable, but what it leaves to the imagination is how do you carry yourself into the winter from inside your chunky, cable knit sweater?
How to have a Nora Ephron Fall:
Complain about your neck
Read
Complain about the cost of rent
Read in bed
Track down an obscure food you’re craving and have an intentional experience eating it
Complain in general
Tell someone a highly detailed story about a job you used to have
Make someone a pie
Say something brilliant and a little mean
Write a completely autobiographical novel about someone who wronged you
Tell yourself you never really even cared that much
Devote yourself to a perfect black turtleneck sweater
Demand romance
Stop knowing who people in People magazine are*
Be the hero of the joke
Order dessert and savor it
Read some more, but skip Proust**
*Impossible for me, but aspirational nonetheless
**Unless you are my friend, Dina – for whom, I girl scout swear I will one day get to Proust.
Sound good? Go forth and prosper, my sneering bellyachers – and would it kill the TikTokers to celebrate the equally good autumnal fashion choices of Billy Crystal’s Harry? Do I have to do everything?
See, that’s the kind of tone you should be aiming for this Nora Ephron fall.
Big love,
kaylasomething
I truly miss the era of Nora Ephron/Meg Ryan movies. Those were THE platonic ideal of romcoms. Of course by saying this I am somewhat reducing Nora to "the queen of romantic comedy" but if the shoe fits...