This is an edition of The Atlantic Daily, a newsletter that guides you through the biggest stories of the day, helps you discover new ideas, and recommends the best in culture. Sign up for it here.Welcome back to The Daily’s Sunday culture edition, in which one Atlantic writer or editor reveals what’s keeping them entertained. Today’s special guest is Nancy Walecki, an associate editor who has written about her father, a guitar guru to the rock gods; the Palisades Fire that ravaged Los Angeles earlier this year; and her quest to find the East Wing rubble.Nancy is an avid reader of Anne Lamott, whose writing blends faith and humor. She also enjoys listening to Erroll Garner’s songs, debating the merits of the latest Taylor Swift album, and revisiting John Singer Sargent’s paintings.— Stephanie Bai, associate editorThe last thing that made me snort with laughter: Traveling Mercies, by Anne Lamott. It tells the story of her journey to faith: She grew up in an atheist intellectual Bay Area family, became addicted to alcohol and drugs, lost her father to cancer, and eventually found her way to Christianity.Some of the funniest bits are about her raising her son. When she’s ashamed of yelling at him: “It’s like bitch-slapping E.T.” When another mother in her son’s class makes a passive-aggressive comment: “I thought such awful thoughts that I cannot even say them out loud because they would make Jesus want to drink gin straight out of the cat dish.”The last thing that made me cry: Also from Traveling Mercies, in which Lamott describes God as a kind of adoptive parent who will take in even the most difficult children. “The mystery of God’s love as I understand it is that God loves the man who was being mean to his dog just as much as he loves babies; God loves Susan Smith, who drowned her two sons, as much as he loves Desmond Tutu,” she writes. “So of course he loves old ordinary me, even or especially at my most scared and petty and mean and obsessive. Loves me; chooses me.”A favorite story I’ve read in The Atlantic: I had to wipe away tears of laughter while reading Gary Shteyngart’s “Crying Myself to Sleep on the Biggest Cruise Ship Ever.”An actor I would watch in anything: Anthony Hopkins.An author I will read anything by: Ann Patchett.A quiet song that I love, and a loud song that I love: One of my favorite quiet songs is “Misty,” as performed by its composer, the pianist Erroll Garner. Listening to it makes even just a walk around the block dreamy. (Bonus: If you explore more of Garner’s work, you’ll notice he hums and vocalizes along while he plays!) For a loud one, I’ve been replaying “Nobody’s Son,” by Sabrina Carpenter. Every sonic variable is perfectly calibrated to yield the ideal amount of bubblegum pop.A culture debate I recently had: A friend and I debated whether the new Taylor Swift album, The Life of a Showgirl, is good. I’m a longtime Swift fan, but even I thought it sounded like ChatGPT’s version of a Taylor Swift album. And yet, “The Fate of Ophelia” remains stuck in my head. I don’t even like the song! Maybe this is what Swift meant when she said the album would contain “melodies that were so infectious that you’re almost angry at it.” [Related: Taylor Swift’s fairy tale is over.]Something I recently revisited: I recently wrapped up a magazine feature about my father’s musical-instrument shop, which was a hub of the 1960s and ’70s music scene in Los Angeles. Once the story went to press, I rewatched This Is Spinal Tap, because nothing (lovingly) parodies rock music better.The last museum or gallery show that I loved: In general, I’m less affected by visual art than I am by music. The exception may be the “Sargent and Paris” exhibit at the Met earlier this year, which I saw four times. I especially love a painting of two young women on a rooftop in Italy; one appears to be dancing the tarantella, and the other is playing the tambourine. You can hear the music; you can feel the cool Capri air. Looking at the scene fills me with an emotion I haven’t yet been able to identify, so I keep coming back.My favorite way of wasting time on my phone: I was actually wasting so much time on my phone (mostly on Instagram) that I had to remove every single fun app from it. But one of my favorite ways to waste time on my computer is Pinterest. It is, in my experience, a universally positive part of the internet. I use it as a tool to dream with—usually about the southwestern-style home I hope to one day own, where I will have lizards and coyotes for neighbors. [Related: What is Pinterest? A database of intentions.]A good recommendation I recently received: The novel Piranesi, by Susanna Clarke. I’ll describe it to you the way my friend did to me: It is a strange, beautiful little book unlike anything I’ve ever read, and it’s best to know as little about it as possible before you start.Here are three Sunday reads from The Atlantic:The age of anti-social media is here.Why students are obsessed with “points taken off”The inflammation gapThe Week AheadThe Running Man, a dystopian action thriller based on Stephen King’s novel about contestants surviving a deadly game show for a $1 billion prize (out Friday in theaters)The American Revolution: An Intimate History, by Ken Burns and Geoffrey C. Ward, who reframe the war as both a broader global battle and a civil conflict that shaped a divided new nation (out Tuesday)My Nightmare Stalker, a documentary about Eva LaRue and her daughter’s 12-year ordeal of surviving a stalker (out Thursday on Paramount+)EssayIllustration by Jonelle Afurong / The Atlantic. Sources: Giovanni Giannoni / WWD / Getty; Gotham / GC Images / Getty; Jason Kempin / Getty; Lyvans Boolaky / WireImage / Getty; Victor Virgile / Gamma-Rapho / Getty.The Pantsless Trend Reaches Its Logical ConclusionBy Julie BeckCelebrities seem to have developed a pants allergy. Bella Hadid and Julia Fox have been running errands in their underpants. Bodysuits, oversize blazers worn as dresses, and sheer fabrics that reveal the lingerie underneath are all common sights. This widespread pantsless trend has given rise to a new sort of garment, more micro than micro-shorts, bulkier than lingerie: I call it the “fashion diaper.”Read the full article.More in CultureSophie Gilbert: No, women aren’t the problem.Two unlikely biopics about unlikable peopleDear James: When it’s time to say goodbyeThe man who rescued FaulknerThe high-stakes SNL sketch about … domestic choresThe best postseason in baseball history?When helicopter parents touch down—at collegeThe most useless piece of parenting adviceQuestlove: “What I learned from Sammy Davis Jr.”Catch Up on The AtlanticMamdani is the foil Trump wants.The Court must decide if the Constitution means what it says.The lonely new vices of American lifePhoto AlbumA close-up photo of a frog against a green wall (© Roman Willi / cupoty.com)Take a look at some shortlisted images from the 2025 Close-Up Photographer of the Year contest.Rafaela Jinich contributed to this newsletter.Play our daily crossword.Explore all of our newsletters.When you buy a book using a link in this newsletter, we receive a commission. 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