when you want, where you want.
Chloe Fineman Got Hooked on Pedialyte This Summer
Illustration: Margalit Cutler
At any given moment, Saturday Night Live’s Chloe Fineman has her apartment stocked with Swedish banana-chocolate Bubs, strawberry licorice, and gummies galore. A couple of years ago, she started making a candy bowl whenever her best friend would come to visit. Now, it’s become her signature. “I don’t buy flowers,” she says, laughing. “I buy candy.” Also, she could use the energy: In addition to gearing up for SNL’s season-50 premiere on September 28, Fineman is in Francis Ford Coppola’s Megalopolis, in theaters that same weekend. This week, however, Fineman was able to help her dog model some jewelry and maneuver around L’Industrie’s line — even if her local candy plug had to shut down unexpectedly.
Thursday, September 12
I start the day at the Kallmeyer fashion show, where I have cold brew and a salmon sandwich. I want to sing to the world how much I care about Daniella’s clothing. It’s pretty much all I wear. During the show, I was sobbing. It’s like, The perfect leather jacket, the perfect coat. All this shit that I’ve already bought a worse version of. I think that I’m in my business-lady era, and Kallmeyer blazers are incredible. Maybe because SNL is in an office building, my friends at work and I dress like little business ladies, even though it’s a comedy job.
At noon, I run to 30 Rock to get ready for a photo shoot. I have more cold brew and a bite of croissant. I decide immediately, “No! Not enough food,” and get sushi from downstairs, too. I’m acting like a little king. Like, “Next! Better!” I then house salmon-avocado rolls and Diet Coke. It makes sense: croissant as an appetizer, sushi as a main course.The sushi is kind of flavorless, and I fuck with it. I usually ask for, like, eight packets of ginger and cover everything with it. It’s from the Blue Ribbon in 30 Rock, which is reliable and plain. I give it a six — it’s quick sushi, and I’ve never had a bad bite.
One of my stylist’s assistants brings us a huge bag of Levain. We think it’s cookies, but no, it’s two large loaves of banana bread. The bag doesn’t have cutlery or napkins. There are four of us, and we’re like, “How do we eat this?” I break it up with a chopstick, and we eat the top of it.
Back at my apartment to change for a Vogue screening of In Vogue: The 90s, I have several pieces of candy. (I like to have Swedish candy from BonBon in a large bowl for people and myself to pick at.)
There’s no time to actually eat. I snack on two Trader Joe’s cheeses in the Uber to the screening. They’re sharp cheddar squares, individually wrapped. I might have debated leaving two cheese wrappers in the Uber like an evil mouse.
At the screening, I eat popcorn and “healthy” non-Reese’s peanut-butter cups. A very fashion dinner. I also have a nonalcoholic cocktail, which is a bright fuchsia color and a yuzu-berry flavor. I like calling them nonalcoholic because it feels fancy, but it’s three cups of juice. Also, Anna Wintour curated this event — walking around with a nonalcoholic cocktail, large popcorn, and several “Reese’s” feels … embarrassing?
Back at home, I order Moustache Pitza for a late dinner. There’s nostalgia in it. When I was a kid, my mom would make us pita pizza with tomato sauce and mozzarella in the toaster oven. It was our “kid food,” and this is like an adult version of that — four really cute slices and plenty of vegetables, cheese, garlic, and herbs.
Friday, September 14
I have a Pink Lady apple, cold brew, and Trader Joe’s cheese. Between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m., I guarantee I will have eaten like three Pink Lady apples. When I was in college, I read that Jennifer Connelly ate three Pink Ladys a day. It’s likely not true, but I’ve been doing it ever since.
I realize I’m running late, so I hop into an Uber to a Chanel fitting. I have coffee there, then go to The Row to return something. I am famished, so I eat a Ladurée ham-and-cheese sandwich. I discovered these maybe two years ago when I was getting my hair done, and they really slap. I always thought it was a French ham and cheese, but today I read it’s a “turkey ham.” Have I been eating turkey ham this whole time? What is turkey ham? I’m not okay.
For lunch, I take my boyfriend to Apollo Bagels, the Courage Bagels of New York. Courage Bagels famously wasn’t run by a Jew (maybe the wife is Jewish?) and had like “Chutzpah” merch and well … My friends and I had mixed feelings. Not that I would boycott. And also, who cares. But Apollo Bagels feels more like … bagel vibes. I’ve had it three times in the last week and a half. It’s so close to my apartment. I also now have the personal number of someone who works there, so honey, I’m hooked.
We get tomato on sesame and lox on everything and fresh OJ, and yes, it is the best bagel of all time. It’s so fucking good it hurts. Like it’s sourdough? But it’s crunchy? But like puffy in the middle? And the herbs are fresh? And everyone in line is really deeply hot. Like hot gays and hot straights. Is the West Village becoming Dimes Square?
We walk down the block to this TikTok Swedish candy shop called “lil sweet treat,” which, when it opened, had a longer line than a Supreme drop. Hell. Why do people wait on lines? Full disclosure: I discovered Swedish candy, say, four years ago. Then, these little fucks on TikTok blew it up and now you have to wait on line behind a *velvet* rope for candy. Okay, I admit I did it once, and it was deeply, deeply humiliating.
I’ve followed the owner girl on TikTok and her struggles to open this store, which … My God. Poor girl. Everything has gone wrong for her. Anyways, today there isn’t a big line. I get only pink candy and a big bag of Bubs. I give them my credit card and don’t even look at the price because I’m buying Luxury Candy and I don’t want to know.
Glam comes around four, and we eat out of my large bowl of Swedish candy. I then go to a Ninja Luxe event for an honestly impeccable espresso machine I did some content for. I house four espresso drinks during the pictures and demos and run to the bathroom at least twice. With so much cold foam and cold brew, it was inevitable.
After, I order chicken satay from a Thai place near me — one for me, one for my dog — along with rice and broccoli, because I haven’t had a vegetable in a week. I don’t remember if I ate the broccoli.
Saturday, September 14
Breakfast is cold brew, Van’s protein waffles, peanut butter, and banana. I love these waffles, and I order them in bulk. I think I saw them years ago at Whole Foods and was like, “Protein! That’ll do.” That P-word just does something to me. I throw some Maldon salt on top, so the banana tastes kinda fancy? I got bad sleep because of the four coffees before bed, and it takes two more coffees to wake up.
I also go to Juice Press and get my favorite blended coffee. It’s cold brew with banana, cocoa powder, and mesquite. It tastes like a chocolate milkshake that’ll get you jazzed. Maybe next time I’ll put some P-word in it. Aaand I start shaking because I’m on coffee No. 3, but this time, it’s in the morning. So I guess that’s healthier.
At noon, I have more Trader Joe’s cheese and an apple. I should mention I have two of these cheeses. One for me, and one for Peach, my dog. The cheese tax is a real thing in our house. If I bite into an apple — because usually I’ll have cheese with my apple — Peach will jump because he knows that cheese is there. He knows the sound of the wrapper opening. When I try to walk him, he hides under a piece of furniture, and I have to make a little trail of cheese until he slowly comes out. Then I catch him on the collar.
Izzy, my stylist’s intern, comes over and we organize my whole bedroom. I forgot to ask her if she’s hungry, and by 3 p.m. we are both shaking, so we have Trader Joe’s cheese, those Simple Mills crackers, and water. I also drink half a Pedialyte, which I got addicted to playing a stripper this summer in Syracuse for a movie. The New York heat and humidity, plus the long hours on the pole — I just got hooked. I’m worried I have hypertension due to salt but whatever. Izzy and I are still hungry, so I get us Tunacados from Joe and the Juice. I got spicy, but the spice isn’t blended in the tuna — it’s just large slices of pickled jalapeño, and I had a bad one on there.
My friend Mark is moving to L.A., so we go to Knickerbocker for dinner. I’ve lived in the West Village on and off for 16 years, and I had no clue what this place was. Lots of professors and tourists. When the waiter asks what we’d like to drink, I order Diet Coke and fries. I think it should be normal and encouraged, actually, to get fries with your soda. They’re really good fries. Like if McDonald’s met an In-N-Out. I also get a burger “plate,” which I split with my boyfriend. The burger is literally on a large plate, Cheesecake Factory style. And then a molten chocolate cake for dessert. Charming place? Yes. Confusing place? Yes.
Sunday, September 15
At 10 a.m., I have the Vans–waffle–banana–peanut butter–salt. And cold brew. Then I go to Tracy Anderson for a workout class. I get cold brew before. Big mistake, but Maggie Gyllenhaal is in my class. We’ve been in many a class together, but I’ve never properly introduced myself. I’m such a fan of everything she does but am too weirded out to be like, “Heeeey.” I make a lot of grimace faces at her, and she seems not put off by that. One day I’ll say “hi.”
I run home after class and order my most-ordered meal on UberEats from Jack’s Wife Freda: the chicken kebob, which comes with their chopped salad and couscous. And that spicy green sauce. Yum. UberEats says I’m in the 90th percentile of Jack’s Wife orders, which is … humbling? I eat this kebob three times a week at least. I like that I can give my dog a bite.
As a snack, I have Trader Joe’s cheese, apple, another banana, and candy. I finish the Pedialyte from the day before. I also learn the new TikTok candy shop has already closed. According to her TikTok, a delivery truck didn’t have AC and now her candy is melted. This poor candy girl! I decide to order these banana Bubs I love from a Swedish candy place abroad. Kinda unhinged to do this, but I really miss this candy, and my new candy dealer ain’t gonna have my fix anytime soon. Also, imagine that melted candy truck.
For dinner, my boyfriend and I go to L’Industrie in the West Village for pizza. The line is insane. I am a criminal when it comes to lines — yes I hate lines, but I’m also kind of a bad person — so I sneak in and ask about ordering a whole pizza. Next thing I know, I’ve totally cut the line to order an entire pizza. In my head, people are on line for slices not pie. So I made my own new imaginary line for full pie. I tell them that I haven’t ordered online but can I just place an order here? So shady I am for this pizza. We have our pie within 15 minutes. I lie to my boyfriend and say I did not cut. Also, Busy Phillips’s ex is also picking up a large pie. Did he cut?
Monday, September 16
We have peanut butter, banana, and coffee.
My dog is modeling today, so we take an Uber to Brooklyn where I have a bagel with cream cheese and orange juice. My dog scares everyone immediately! He models with a diamond necklace, and I spend the whole time trying to hold him and not break it. We do all of it with cheese, but we have to be careful because if he wants it, he won’t be in his modeling position.
Jemima Kirke is there and doesn’t remember meeting me, which she tells me mid-hug: “Have we met?” Yes, Jemima. She doesn’t really believe me but says my face looks familiar. I wouldn’t care normally, but this happens in front of several people. Damn.
Back home, I have Fage (pronounced Vag) yogurt and banana and more cheese and apple and cold brew. Rabbit-girl lunch, I call it. Also some candy: new, “healthy” candy that arrives from Amazon. Not the same as the good shit, but it’ll be nice to spread out healthy with unhealthy. Also, reader: WTF is “healthy candy”? Candy’s candy, and it doesn’t matter how you want to cut it.
An hour later, I get my new favorite sandwich from Maman called the “Juliette” or something French and dainty, but it’s literally a hot steak sandwich. It’s on ciabatta and has good sun-dried tomato aïoli. Last time I had it, I was getting my eyebrows done at Azi Brow and the stylist was like, “How can you eat a steak sandwich and stay so petite?” Mid-bite I screamed, “Stress!”
We can’t decide on dinner. I say Thai, but my boyfriend messes up and doesn’t get rice or broccoli for me to forget to eat. We watch I Think You Should Leave and laugh. I keep wanting to go to Softside in Nolita; they have a great chocolate-dipped cone. It’s too far to walk because we are tired, but I’m manifesting that they open in the West Village. Come on! We got candy! Bagels! My dog! Bring ya ice cream ovaaaaaaaa!
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