Something’s Gotta Give
An ode to Diane Keaton, plus, exhibits I loved whilewandering through New York this week
In the wake of Diane Keaton's passing yesterday, the world briefly paused to feel something.
When I saw the news break, I was shopping on the Upper East Side at Voilet Grey (’s highly curated beauty store—absolute slay on every level) and immediately shared it with my friend, who was in equal disbelief. Keaton was only 79—a mere blink in the grand scheme of someone so endlessly alive—and a quick Google search revealed she had three projects still in production. There was still so much of her magic the world was meant to see. Within moments, we found ourselves reminiscing with Rachel, the lovely sales associate ringing us up, trading our favorite Diane Keaton films like old friends. We were all gutted.
As the afternoon wore on, my feed erupted into thoughtful tributes for Keaton. These anecdotes weren’t just grief-filled messages over losing one of our most talented artists too soon, but recognitions of her kindness. From writers I follow to travel industry professionals, seemingly everyone had a story about meeting Keaton in the wild, and her being the most gracious, warm, and charming person imaginable. I read stories of her cooing over people’s babies both up close and from across an entire restaurant (two different stories I read from two completely different people!!!!), taking photos with strangers whom she treated like old friends in hotel lobbies, and even one tale of her going to the Colosseum on a whim with someone she’d just met. Incredible.
If one thing is true when taking these stories and her body of work into consideration, it’s that Keaton didn’t just act; she architected a mood. Turtlenecks and oversized linen trousers. Quirky hats and big belts. Unapologetic monologues. Nancy Meyers’ designed kitchens with too many cutting boards and perfect lighting. But more than her fashion or cinematic chops, Keaton gave us an entire visual language for what it means to grow older and stay interesting. Her characters taught us that heartbreak and self-possession can exist in the same frame…and that laughter is the ultimate salve.
I’ve been thinking about how she aged in public with wit, style, and curiosity—the holy trinity of self-invention. Maybe that’s why her passing hits differently: she made growing up and growing older look like an art form.
Ultimately, every actress, every artist, every writer is trying to preserve something just before it fades. But maybe the point isn’t preservation at all. Maybe it’s participation. Maybe what makes beauty sacred is how briefly we get to witness it. Maybe that’s what Diane Keaton knew—that no matter how well you arrange your life, something’s always gotta give. And maybe that’s where the art gets in.
That said, I feel like rewatching her films feels like the best way to honor her legacy. So, here’s a rewatch list crafted not for study, but for savoring.
A Diane Keaton Rewatch Cheatsheet
Annie Hall (1977): The one that started it all. Wide-legged trousers, neurotic charm, and the moment Diane Keaton became shorthand for cool. Streaming on Amazon Prime and Apple TV.
Baby Boom (1987): The blueprint for female ambition with heart. Who else could make running a Vermont baby food company look chic? Available to rent on Apple TV or Amazon Prime.
Father of the Bride (1991): The mother of all comfort watches. Keaton’s warmth, wit, and perfectly tailored cream suits turned suburban chaos into something tender. Streaming on Disney+ and Apple TV.
The First Wives Club (1996): A revenge fantasy wrapped in pearls and friendship. Still cathartic, still perfect. Streaming on Paramount+ and MGM+.
Something’s Gotta Give (2003): The Keaton archetype at her peak—crying at her laptop in the Hamptons and somehow making it aspirational. Available to rent on Amazon Prime.
Book Club (2018): Because even at 72, she reminded us that curiosity is the real fountain of youth. Streaming on Netflix.
Rewatching Something’s Gotta Give last night, I was struck by how well she plays women in transition—mid-crisis, mid-draft, mid-evolution. She didn’t pretend to have it together; she just kept going. Maybe that’s the secret to her magic: the willingness to unravel in front of an audience and still look like herself while doing it.
Lately, I’ve been craving a similar sense of less polish, more presence. And if you’re based in New York or passing through, there are so many exhibits going on right now to consider visiting, from Van Gogh’s flowers to The New Yorker’s wit to the stories shared in Grand Central, so I wanted to round them up!
Additionally, paid subscribers will get access to my roundup of cultural musings happening that have caught my eye this week, plus my entire back catalogue of 100 (!!!) issues of The Sunday Series, including Your Local’s Guide to West Village, A No-Gatekeeping Guide to Mallorca, A Mini Formentera Guide, Your Ultimate Paris Guide, Your Guide to Bozeman, Your Guide to Nantucket, 100 Hotels I’m Dying to Check Into, My Holy Grail Rules for an Overnight Flight, 31 Ideas for Your Next Birthday Trip, A Playbook for How to Make Friends As An Adult, and 16 Prompts for a Personal Quarterly Review.
Van Gogh’s Flowers at New York Botanical Garden (through October 27th)
Yesterday, we took the Metro-North up on a gray morning that felt just the right kind of moody. Van Gogh’s Flowers isn’t just an art show; it’s a translation of brushstroke into bloom. Fields of yellow and gold are arranged like living paintings with petals bending toward the same kind of light that once found Van Gogh’s window in Arles.
The portion of the exhibit I loved the most was indoors, where there were reimaginings of some of his most popular works as living paintings bursting out of their frames. Van Gogh painted what was fleeting because he couldn’t bear to let it vanish unnoticed. Standing there, surrounded by color that felt alive, I understood that impulse completely. Art is just the desire to make a moment stay.
The New Yorker at 100 at the New York Public Library in Bryant Park (through February 21st, 2026)
Trading pollen for paper, the marble halls of the NYPL, The New Yorker at 100 celebrates a century of wit by the legendary publication. This exhibit is a celebration of the humor and heartbreak of a city always slightly ahead of itself. The early covers are there—Eustace Tilley, smug as ever—alongside cartoons, essays, and handwritten notes that feel like time capsules.
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