EDITOR’S NOTE

HEALTH MINDED

Here’s to celebrating the many sides of wellness.

For our annual Health issue, we’ve gone bigger than ever and devoted a full 20 pages to all things health, wellness, medical, and good for you. We’ve of course sprinkled in other health-related stories throughout the rest of the pages too, from new plant-based restaurants (page 61) to the city’s newest spa (page 11).

One other topic you could le under “mental health” is Family writer Jennifer Ashton Ryan’s story on page 18 about organization. Jenny and I rst met around 2004 when we were both interns at Robb Report magazine. With cubicle-like adjacent desks, we became fast friends. Flash forward a few years and we had both become full-time editors when we were given the opportunity to share an enclosed office—the kind with a real door and everything.

While we had much in common in other aspects of our lives (at one point, we even lived in the same apartment building—yes, just like in Friends), we differed when it came to how we liked our spaces.

My aesthetic deemed that our new of ce be pristine white. I ordered two frosted-glass and white coated-metal L-shaped desks with matching sets of drawers from West Elm instead of the standard-issue dark wood-laminate kind the company would have ordered from Of ce Depot (they ended up being less expensive too). I couldn’t stand the of ce’s generic brown rectangular waste bins, so I got us each a cylindrical glossy white one from The Container Store that, roughly 15 years later, still rests under my desk.

Did I consult her on any of these decisions? Did the only child in me take over and just insist? I honestly can’t remember, but I do remember how she put up with me and my habits, which were the opposite of hers.

Back in the era of postal mail, we’d receive a daily stack of press kits, disks of images, and other media materials that could quickly swallow up your space. I never kept more than a small pile at one time, and anything oversized immediately

got tossed rather than dominate my desk. Meanwhile, a few feet away, Jenny’s desk was consumed with mountains of them. In her mind, organized chaos. I’d always threaten to “tidy up” her desk when she was away. “Don’t you dare!” she’d throw back at me. I never did, but the idea was always tempting. Very tempting. I thrive on minimalism. I adore empty space. A giant desk with nothing on it? Pure bliss. To me, a sign of success. What do I do when I’m overwhelmed with work deadlines and don’t know how I’ll have enough hours in the week to get through it all? I clean. I throw stuff out. It is empowAbove: My current o ce space and minimalist ering, soothes my mind, helps me focus, aesthetic, which has given me comfort my and feels amazing. Instant mood lift. entire career. Below: My friend and colleague Jenny's home o ce. “My piles are a signal I always assumed Jenny’s growing piles that I’m in process,” she says. “I’ll get to them, on her desk were sources of stress for but they are not the priority just yet.” her. Reminders of how much work was still on the horizon. But after reading her story about how an organized home doesn’t always equal an organized life, I realized that she probably found comfort in those piles. To her, they were grounding. To each their own. Now, she somehow juggles writing and editing with raising three spectacular children. As I was writing this, I texted to ask her for a pic of her current workspace. She said she’d do it later that evening and, in the meantime, sent me a real-time video of her three little ones singing and dancing through the “Wishing Tunnel” in Montrose. Happy, healthy, carefree, and very much loved—her kids don’t care if the laundry isn’t folded and their toys aren’t in perfectly organized bins. We offer a variety of health ideas in this issue, but maybe the healthiest—and easiest—thing we can all do for ourselves this year is cut ourselves a little slack. Cheers to 2023,

SAMANTHA BROOKS

Editor in Chief

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