A Night Out With Jemima Kirke

There’s a sunset-colored flower arrangement sitting on the stoop outside of Jemima Kirke’s apartment waiting to be brought inside. I pick it up and place it on a shoe rack near the door, where it’s promptly inspected by her two patchy-haired cats, both inquisitive, and surprisingly friendly. They must have had a busy day, I think, as I scan her living room, an eclectic space with both green and pink walls and Greco-Roman-adjacent wallpaper, that’s littered with even more bright bouquets. It’s to be expected: today is Kirke’s 38th birthday, and she’s a very popular girl.