Author Paulette Ely

Jam sessions: the ones where you sit in a fellow twenty-something year old’s hot-boxed, heatless bedroom while they pluck the strings of their prized guitar. Friends humming along until all thoughts are lost ...

Like clockwork, I feel the tears filling my eyes and instinctively click my Spotify before any have the time to fall down my cheek. In this tumultuous, torturous and tiresome year, we have all become far too f...

Whenever I like a track, I ask my most musically-manic-mate, Ivan to send me songs that sound similar. Ivan is basically like a Spotify algorithm in human form, knowing the ins and outs of what makes people fe...

Let’s get right into it: Concerts are nowhere on the horizon, dressing up these days means simply wearing something other than sweatpants, and spiced (or spiked) cider just doesn’t hit right when spooky se...