Where were you (and those of a certain age and inclination will certainly remember) back in 1977 when you first heard Elvis Costello’s exhilarating debut LP? The concise, arresting songs on My Aim Is True—“Alison,” “Red Shoes,” “Less than Zero,” and others—were an unforgettable introduction to this prolific, pigeonhole-defying, still-adventurous songwriter. A rewarding new, “49th anniversary,” five-CD boxed set provides rich context: 104 tracks, half previously unreleased demos, outtakes, and live cuts, plus a sparkling remaster of the original record, pulling back the curtain on the album’s creation with rare photos, handwritten lyrics, and a lengthy, entertaining essay by Costello. “I can’t recall if my initial reaction was shocked silence or laughter,” he writes of management’s proposal to change his name from Declan McManus. “I was truthfully more of a Little Richard fan. Then again ‘Little Costello’ would have just sounded funny, and not in a good way.” ($109.98, elviscostello.com) —George Kalogerakis

Over the course of nearly two decades, Sherri McMullen’s Sacramento Street independent boutique became a favorite shopping destination for those in the know. Now she starts a new chapter in her curatorial empire with her latest flagship store, on the storied Maiden Lane in the heart of San Francisco’s Union Square. Designed in collaboration with Gabriella Khalil, the space is half clubhouse, half private styling studio. A champion of emerging designers, McMullen has an editorial eye that places Connor Ives next to Celine, Kallmeyer alongside Khaite, while also showcasing local emerging brands—all with an effortless ease. Intimate and inviting, McMullen is not just a place to shop but to linger. (shopmcmullen.com) —Maggie Turner

Dozens of books have been published about The New Yorker, and I have read more of them than I should admit, but none have been as joyful to read and look at as Françoise Mouly’s gloriously extravagant history of New Yorker covers over the last 100 years. Mouly has been the magazine’s art director for more than three decades, and the book tilts in that direction, focusing on many of the artists she brought into the mix, including Chris Ware, Barry Blitt, and her husband, Art Spiegelman. But in no way does she shirk the past. For starters, she gives credit to the magazine’s neglected Jane Grant, who founded it with her then husband, Harold Ross, for helping establish the look and sensibility. The book is organized by history and theme, with brief biographies of dozens of artists. One chapter is even devoted to breaking news covers, a definite split with the past when, say, a gloomy harbor scene might illustrate the cover the week after J.F.K.’s assassination. So here are covers alluding to Monica Lewinsky, 9/11, and the trial of O. J. Simpson. Even the death of Steve Jobs received a cover, with a Blitt illustration of him being checked into heaven by St. Peter consulting his iPad. Mouly turns out to be a superb art director who also is an excellent writer, so there never is a dull moment in this feast of a book. The introduction is by David Remnick, the magazine’s incisive and self-effacing editor. ($75, rizzoliusa.com) —Jim Kelly

“It’s harder not to read Nancy than to read it”—that was cartoonist Wally Wood’s (admiring) verdict on Ernie Bushmiller’s classic comic strip. It dates back to the 1930s in the form we know it, with the spiky-haired heroine and her bald pal Sluggo. Visual cues are both stripped down and strangely compelling, like the dotted line that runs from Nancy’s eyes to indicate her gaze. Some of the jokes can be thought of as slapstick for Wittgenstein. Nancy is a cultural Rorschach test: either the most inane comic strip ever syndicated or, as many in the business believe, a work of minimalist genius. In 1999, when the critic A. S. Hamrah produced a purported selection of letters between Bushmiller and Samuel Beckett, the correspondence was taken seriously in some quarters. Bushmiller didn’t put on airs—he called himself “the Lawrence Welk of cartoonists” and wouldn’t have known what the word “semiotics” meant—but he deserves a place on comic-strip Olympus. Or at least a place on the stage, which is what writer Tom Gammill (Seinfeld, The Simpsons) gives him in a glorious and funny two-person play, A Morning with Ernie Bushmiller. Gammill plays the cartoonist; Lauren Servideo carries all the other roles. The show, which had its debut at the Billy Ireland Collection’s 2024 NancyFest, will have a six-night run at the Mark O’Donnell Theater, in Brooklyn, New York, starting October 8. (eventbrite.com) —Cullen Murphy

Released in 1931, Mädchen in Uniform sits at the confluence of Germany’s cultural contradictions in the decade leading up to World War II. The romantic drama, made by female director Leontine Sagan, came on the heels of German Expressionism just before Nazi formalist propaganda. Sagan’s film enlists a cast full of women to explore the sensuality and psychology of female friendship, individualism, and queer sexuality. The story follows Manuela (Hertha Thiele) as she adjusts to her authoritarian all-girls boarding school and develops an all-consuming crush on her teacher (Dorothea Wieck). Two years after its release, the cultural minister of the Nazi Party ordered all copies of the film be destroyed. Fortunately, Mädchen in Uniform had already been distributed out of the country, so this seminal queer and feminist work was preserved, and is, in many ways, as important now as it was then. (tv.apple.com) —Eve Eismann

Some foot stools are stowed away and brought out only when something is beyond reach. This one from the House of Lyria isn’t—and, trust us, you wouldn’t want it to be—one of them. Crafted in collaboration with Osanna Visconti—the Italian designer who specializes in a 6,000-year-old lost wax-casting tradition using bronze—the velvet ottoman is just one of many treasures of a timeless collection that is equal parts paired-back and daring. ($6,850; abask.com) —Jimena Elmufdi