Sarah Hepola
Culture

January 17, 2019

A hideaway in the mists of cyberspace

Introducing the new and improved sarahhepola.com

In the spring of 2001, I decided to start my own website. Actually, I decided to quit my job at the Austin paper, travel to Ecuador to learn Spanish, and also start my own website, where I planned to share stories of my adventures. I didn’t like the idea of spamming my friend circle with . . . Read More

November 21, 2018

Saturday in New York City

A small and lovely adventure

Last Saturday morning, I woke before dawn in the cozy loft bedroom of my friends’ Tribeca apartment. For mysterious reasons, I’ve been waking up early for the past two months, sometimes as early as 3:30am. I badly wish I could sleep longer, but I’ve also grown fond of these dim and hushed hours before the . . . Read More

October 17, 2018

Pictures of people with their eyes closed

‘Who is that woman?’ I don't know, but I like her

I bought a framed portrait of a woman at a vintage store several years ago. I had been walking through an aisle crowded with peeling cabinets and rusty kitchen utensils when the portrait grabbed me. The woman’s eyes were closed, but she was smiling, and I wondered what the story was behind this disjunction, between the deliberate . . . Read More

September 16, 2018

The gala, alone

A moment in time, snapped back to reality

I was trying to get a picture of the red neon pegasus outside the Omni Hotel. I was standing on the sidewalk, in my high heels and the dress I’d worn to the gala, angling my phone to capture the Reunion Tower in the background, whose lights were flickering in such a way that if . . . Read More

July 28, 2018

Status

A brush with a compulsive liar

I wish I could remember how she came to me, what detail opened the door that I would walk through to meet her. Did we have a friend in common? Did she name-drop some magazine? This would have been 2011, or thereabouts, and my inbox was a game of whack-a-mole, where the moles were always . . . Read More

May 30, 2015

Little slips of paper that might have contained your future

In my senior year of college, I took a playwriting class. We were given slips of paper with dramatic scenarios and told to write a few pages of a scene. It’s been nearly two decades since I read the information on that strip of paper, selected from a pile, and though I cannot be certain, . . . Read More

March 28, 2015

London.

I am standing at the desk of an immigration officer at London’s Heathrow airport. The man flips through my passport. “And what is your business here?” he asks, not looking up. “I’m a writer,” I say. It took a while to put that down on official forms. I usually put editor, and then sometimes I . . . Read More

June 16, 2013

Needless turbulence.

The flight was from Denver to Aspen, where I was headed for a literary thing. The flying time was 25 minutes. The captain told us it would be bumpy the whole way. That’s when you know it will be bad — when the captain feels the need to warn you. I used to be an . . . Read More

September 4, 2007

Carter.

A eulogy for a friend

Food critics talk about how hard it is to come up with different ways to say “tastes good.” For Dallas music writers, it was coming up with different ways to describe Carter Albrecht. There were only so many times you could say “mega-talented” without sounding like the hack you very well might have been. And . . . Read More