If you know us at all, then you know that we don’t mess around with slippers. It’s ViBi Venezia or nothing. These supremely comfortable Venetian-style shoes designed by Viola and Vera Arrivabene come in so many enticing colors and fabrics that there’s little reason to stray. Now they are bringing their goods to Paris with a pop-up shop located at 140 Avenue des Champs-Élysées. (Yes, it’s directly next door to McDonald’s, you heathens. See you there.) It’s open on weekdays only, from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m., and even includes a few heels. Stop in before a long day of slogging around town, and trade in whatever you’ve been wearing for a pair of shoes that look as good as they feel. (vibivenezia.it) —Ashley Baker

In 1982, Bret Easton Ellis left Los Angeles for Bennington College, a tiny school in nowhere Vermont, with a suitcase of narcotics and a Joan Didion–inspired manuscript about the high-school friends he’d enjoyed those drugs with. As luck would have it, Didion’s daughter would end up his Bennington classmate. Or, maybe, as Air Mail Writer at Large Lili Anolik ventures in her new podcast, it wasn’t luck at all. One Gen X literary star in the class of 1986 is a fluke. But three—Ellis (that manuscript became Less than Zero), Donna Tartt (The Secret History), and Jonathan Lethem (Motherless Brooklyn)—means there’s something in the water. It wasn’t just cocaine—though, there was a lot of that. Anolik describes Bennington as “an academic institution that scorned both academics and institutions,” where du Ponts, Gettys, and the heir to Baskin-Robbins attended parties with professors—and, sometimes, classes. She offers salacious anecdotes about mid-80s campus life, but Anolik goes beyond dishing out dirty details. The 14-part series, a C13 Original, is a “portrait of an era,” a look at the aspirations and values of the Gen X–ers who defined 1980s and 1990s literary culture. (podcasts.apple.com) —Jensen Davis

Watching the new Amazon docuseries LuLaRich is a bit like rubbernecking at a highway collision. The four-part investigative show tells the story of LuLaRoe, a California-based multi-level-marketing scam that had women peddling the company’s leggings on social media. LuLaRoe, which reported sales of $1 billion in 2016, is now embroiled in multiple lawsuits—including a recent class-action suit that resulted in a $4.75 million payout. The series offers fallen #girlbosses, siblings who get married, a crumbling pyramid scheme, cult-like leaders, patterned leggings that smell like “dead farts,” and oh so much hair spray. Perhaps most interesting is how LuLaRoe preyed on the insecurities of stay-at-home mothers—mostly white and working-class. The company sold women on selling leggings with the promise of financial security and flexibility. Unfortunately, the reality was far more sinister. (amazon.com) —Bridget Arsenault

Since Toast was created in a Welsh farmhouse in 1997, the company has been churning out sensible but stylish women’s wear and home items made with top-notch materials and priced affordably. At long last, it is tackling men’s wear, and its inaugural collection has arrived at its U.K. stores and online. There’s a lot to love—such as the organic-cotton tees and garment-dyed trousers—but the knitwear can’t be missed. Especially this charcoal grid-stitch Guernsey sweater with a rolled neck and ribbed cuffs, which is warm enough to stave off overcoat season for at least another month. (We hope.) ($290, us.toa.st) —Ashley Baker

​​In my world, T-shirts are a necessary evil—basically something to soak up the sweat while working out. Other than that, I never wear a non-collared shirt, the main reason being that most of them are cut with about as much shape as a hospital gown. Son of a Tailor has not only changed all that but has also made me believe that a T-shirt can be something that actually makes you look good, a bit like Paul Newman did in those 1960s photos. How do they do it? Easy—log on to their site and get a super-simple three-step process to create your European-made, custom-fit T-shirt in extra-long staple cotton (which means it not only gives you a neat, trim fit but feels soft as hell). They’ll make you rethink how sharp-looking a T-shirt can be. (Starting at $68, sonofatailor.com) —Michael Hainey

Turns out customers associate the color green with health. They also gravitate toward terms such as “natural” and “cruelty free,” which brands have taken full advantage of in their marketing while still filling their products with ingredients that aren’t good for you. Yuka, a free app available for download, reads between the lines—literally. It lets users scan the barcodes of a variety of foods and cosmetics and gives each item an overall score, from 1 to 100. Products from ice cream to face cream also receive ratings for their individual ingredients, information on those ingredients (such as known carcinogens or something that is banned in Europe but not in the U.S.), and positives and negatives (an excellent source of fiber or too fatty). For products that do not score well, Yuka suggests (unsponsored) alternatives. The one thing Yuka does not rate is alcohol. Try to scan the barcode of your beer and you’ll get a cheeky message saying, “You already know what you’re doing.” (apps.apple.com) —Julia Vitale