Noble Blood - Who's Afraid of the Duchess of Newcastle (Part Two)

Episode Date: August 19, 2025

Virginia Woolf compared her to a giant cucumber plant. Had she read that, Margaret Cavendish might have thought it a compliment. Support Noble Blood:— Bonus episodes, stickers, and scripts on Patreon— Order Dana's book, 'Anatomy: A Love Story' and its sequel 'Immortality: A Love Story'See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is an I-heart podcast. Guaranteed Human. Hello, gorgeous. It's Lala Kent. Host of Untraditionally Lala. My days of filling up cups at Sir may be over, but I'm still loving life in the valley. Life on the other side of the hill is giving grown-up vibes, but over here on my podcast, Untraditionally Lala,

I'm still that Lala you either love or love to hate. It's unruly, it's unruly, unafraid, it's untraditionally Lala. Listen to Untraditionally Lala on the IHartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. The first published volume of work from Margaret Cavendish, Poems and Fancies in 1653, introduced readers to an author who didn't settle for one subject or style. The volume features poems about atoms, arguments for the existence of fairies, and conversations between man and nature.

Amongst these varied pieces, one can also find a short essay titled To All Writing Ladies. In that essay, Cavendish argues that history is composed of ages defined by men's changing desires. There are ages of peace, ages of war, ages of many gods, ages of atheism, ages of learning, ages of ignorance. Throughout these ages, Margaret explains, there are times when women rise to prominence, whether they be heroines, prophets, rulers, or scholars. For brief periods of time, then, women, she argues, can define an era. And if it be an age when the effeminate spirits rule, Cavendish writes, let us take the advantage and make the best of our time,

for fear their reign should not last long. To that same effect, Cavendish writes, Let us strive to build us tombs while we live, followed by a couplet, that though our bodies die, our names may live to after memory. 1653's Poems and Fancy's would be the first of many tombs

Margaret built herself while she was living. If you recall the ending of our last episode, readers of poems were met with a title page loudly declaring that the book was written by the right honorable the Lady Margaret Countess of Newcastle. Some editions even featured a bold etching of Margaret as a classical statue standing in between Apollo and Athena. Margaret's writing would never be so groundbreaking as to define an era or earn a spot among the classics, but simply by putting her own name on a work of fiction, Margaret Cavendish solidified her place in history as a trailblazer.

A quote from a friend is included in the introduction to poems. Quote, you are not only the first English poet of your sex, but the first that ever wrote this way. When the then-Countess released poems and fancies, only an estimated 1.3% of total English publications were openly written by women. And naturally, we don't even have the statistics for women who may have been writing anonymously, although some certainly did. 1.3% then is small and mostly made up of works offering religious and maternal advice.

From 1650 to 1660, religious texts made up around 61% of all published writing by women. Literature, including poetry and plays, made up only 0.016%. Trailblazers are, as we know, not always well regarded in their time. There's a quote from one of Margaret's contemporaries, Dorothy Osborne, known posthumously for her collection of letters. In one such correspondence Osborne wrote, They say poems and fancies, tis ten times more extravagant than her dress. And once Osborne got her hands on a copy,

she declared that, I have seen it and am satisfied that there are many soberer people in bedlam. Osborne was not alone in her perception of Cavendish. After all, her nickname of the crazy Duchess persists to this day, immortalized by Virginia Woolf in a room of one's own. Was Cavendish truly as crazy as they say? In her own view, at least, it's a bit more complex.

I am not covetous, but as ambitious as ever any of my sex was, is, or can be, which is the cause, though that I cannot be Henry V or Charles II, and yet I will endeavor to be Margaret the first. I'm Dana Schwartz, and this is Noble Blood. When we last left Margaret, she had discovered her passion for writing under the tutelage of her husband, William, and her brother-in-law, Charles. Before she could publish poems, however, she would have to make an unexpected trip back to her home country,

following years abroad. In November 1651, she locked her writings up in a trunk as though they, quote, had been buried in a grave and left them behind in Antwerp with her husband William. That fall, the Cavendishers had learned that Charles's estates were sequestered by Parliament, while Williams' previously seized estates were being sold to fund war in Ireland. In order to regain possession or entitlements, the deemed delinquent had to appear in front of the newly established Rump Parliament. More specifically, they're illiterably named Committee for Compounding. The Cavendishes at this point were so broke that William recognized the necessity of the journey, but he himself could not join his brother, as setting foot on English soil would have been a. a death sentence for him.

Thus, it was up to Charles and Margaret to travel home in frugal style to try to reclaim what they could. Margaret, with her debilitating separation and social anxiety, certainly would not have left her husband's side if she didn't think the situation was so dire. After all, she had an important role to play.

As William's wife, she was entitled to one-fifth of the proceeds from his sold estates, which would have aided considerably in relieving the family's debt. Unfortunately for the couple, they would never see the promised payout. Margaret was so anxious to appear in court that her only living brother, John Lucas, had to speak to the committee on her behalf. Margaret listened quietly while they ruled that,

because she had married William, since he became a delinquent, she was owed nothing. For Charles' part, he managed to regain some of his estates, but he paid such hefty fines in the process that he had to sell some of the land that he had just won back. While Margaret's mission was ultimately unsuccessful, there were still bright spots to be found in London. for one thing she was reunited with her family for the first time in many years. They were smaller in number by this point. Margaret's brothers, Charles and Thomas, her mother, and one of her sisters, had all died while Margaret was abroad.

But her brother John and her beloved sister Catherine were alive and well in London. If you recall, it was Catherine, who Margaret intensely feared losing. So to see her again must have felt like a miracle. Margaret was also able to meet some of Williams' sons and daughters for the first time, who all remained in London after their father's self-imposed exile. This was also the period in which Margaret was introduced to London's royalist intellectual circles. She frequented the salons of composer Henry Laws, who welcomed the contributions of women. including Marlett's contemporary, the poet Catherine Phillips.

In these groups, work was typically circulated as unpublished manuscripts, which would later sometimes be published posthumously. Margaret was one of the select few who chose to officially publish her work in her lifetime. Her publication was also, notably, not an independent venture. She worked with Martin and Alstree, a small but not unimportant press, who would go on to become the official booksellers to the Royal Society. What drove her to take this step that few others, let alone women, often took? We don't quite know.

In the introduction to poems and fancies, Margaret explains the driving force behind her writing and defends her right to publish, said writing. but she doesn't detail her thought process about the in-between. As we discussed last time, Margaret found the practice of writing eased her anxiety and her sadness like nothing else. And indeed, she was living in a specifically unsettling time. Though she reunited with some of her family in London, she was without her husband in a country that did not look the same after eight years abroad.

I was from my lord, she writes in the preface to poems, meaning she was away from her husband, and knowing him to be in great wants, and myself in the same condition, to divert them I wrote to turn the stream. When she says wants, she could be referring to their longing for each other, but also their financial struggles.

In that way, that line could be suggesting that publishing her work was an economic venture, Margaret certainly couldn't have hoped to make a living off her writing. After all, men of the era capable of such were few and far between, but even a small prophet could have helped to turn the stream, if not the tides. When it came to defending herself, Margaret dedicated poems in part, quote, to all noble and worthy ladies. In this short letter, she shares her fears. I imagine I should shall be censored by my own sex, and men will cast a smile of scorn upon my book, because they think thereby women encroach, too.

She implores her fellow women to stand up for her, and knows them to be capable of it, for I know women's tongues are as sharp as two-edged swords, and wound as much when they are angered. After all, in Margaret's mind, she was doing no harm, quote, the world may wonder at my confidence, how dare I put out a book, especially in these censorous times. Why should I be ashamed or afraid where no evil is? Her publication was not only audacious in its very existence, but also in its content. Most notably, the first poem, A World Made by Atoms, describes exactly what its title implies,

the creation of our world as a scientific process, with no mention of God. It may seem counterintuitive, coming from a woman who was a royalist and believed in the divine right of kings, but much of Margaret's early philosophy is considered Epicurian Adamism, which was bold enough to garner accusations of atheism. In Margaret's work, The World's Olio, she goes so far as to say, quote, it is better to be an atheist than a superstitious man, for in atheism there is humanity and civility towards man to man, but superstition regards no humanity. Margaret would later reassure readers,

Pray, account me not an atheist, but believe as I do in God Almighty. In typical Margaret fashion, her thoughts on her own work flip between shyly modest and brazenly ambitial. Spare your severe censures, she calls on the reader, I having not so many years of experience, as will make me a garland to crown my head, only I have had so much time as to gather a little posy to stick upon my breast. In the same introduction, she claims, my ambition is such as I would either be a world or nothing. Margaret's journey to being a world, would take some time, but her next step would be to travel across our world once again.

In February 1653, just weeks after Poems' publication, she prepared to cross the channel and return to her husband Williams' side. While she had found prosperous royalist circles, her home country was still a hostile place for those loyal to the dead king. Charles, her brother-in-law, was meant to make the journey with her, but he fell ill and was advised against traveling for the time being. In order to leave England, Parliament was requiring travelers to swear an oath of allegiance, known as the engagement. I do declare and promise, it read, that I will be true and faithful to the Commonwealth of England as it is now established, without a king or house of lords. You can imagine this would have been a real indignity for Margaret if she had to swear it.

The catch was that only men had to take this oath. Women were, of course, assumed to be so politically ignorant that there was no need for such declarations. On March 2nd, the Council issued permission for Lady Newcastle and servants to go out of England without having taken of the engagement pressed upon her. As William had done in the early days of their courtship, William wrote Margaret many poems of longing during those 15 months spent apart, and many poems of passion upon their reunion.

Our tongues thought much, when lips did touch, they should not meet softly, reads one written after his wife's return to Antwerp. The couple's childlessness, then, cannot be attributed to a lack of trying. As for Margaret, she continued working on her second prose collection, philosophical fancies, a series of essays originally intended to be included in poems.

With soon to be two publications under her belt now, Margaret showed no signs of slowing down. Her next step was to establish herself as a literary figure in Europe. With William's help, Margaret sent out copies of poems and fancies and philosophical fancies to prominent courtiers and intellectuals. Many of these celebrated figures sent messages of praise, but much of that praise comes across as too flattering, veering into the insincere. She was, after all, still a noble woman. As Margaret often referred to her writings as her children,

one royalist scholar played on her own idea, advising her to, Go on then Most Honorable Madam, bless the world with these noble infants of your brain. Margaret's most honest compliment may have come from a criticism. The English courtier and author Sir Edward Hyde argued that since Margaret was, quote, unskilled in any but our mother tongue

and lacked a formal education, she could not have written a book with so many terms of art and such expressions proper to all science. In his denouncement, Hyde evidently put forth the idea that Margaret's work was not only good, but too good. In response, the epilogue to philosophical fancies includes a rebuttal. I hear that my first book was thought to be none of mine own. Margaret argues she is too honest, as not the book. to steal another's work, nor so vain-glorious as to strain to build up a fame upon the ground of another man's wit. This would be a recurring battle throughout Margaret's career. Anatomists,

philosophers, and writers of all kind would accuse Margaret of lying about her education level or passing off someone else's work as her own. Margaret or William would write a defense in response. rinse and repeat. As Margaret began to work on her next publication, the Words Olio, the Cavendish family faced a major loss. The illness that had kept Charles in London turned out to be deadly.

He died in early 1654, never having made it back to Antwerp. Both Margaret and William were devastated. In her memoir, Margaret later wrote that she would, quote, lament the loss so long as I live, going on to describe her brother-in-law and tutor as, quote, nobly generous, wisely valiant, naturally civil, honestly kind, truly loving, virtuously temperate. Maybe now is a good time to mention the rumor that Charles and Margaret had an affair. There's no concrete proof here, but a series of

Angry Poems written by William after the couple's reunion, with titles like Love's Changeable Heart and Love's Perjury, suggests a potential discovery of infidelity. And then there are Margaret's own published words. In poems, a letter dedicated to Charles reads, And though I am your slave being manacled with chains of obligation, yet my chains feel softer than silk, and my bondage is pleasanter than freedom because I am bound to yourself who are a person so full of generosity. Kinky. Margaret often writes of marriage as a form of slavery for women, so it's possible she was speaking of their legal bondage as brother and sister-in-law,

or they were having an affair. We'll likely never know for certain. somewhat ironically, the portion of Charles' estates that he was able to reclaim before his death had boosted the Cavendish fortune significantly. They were not clear of their debts, but they no longer had to pinch pennies on day-to-day expenses, and could even afford, albeit slightly irresponsibly, to spend on luxuries. Margaret published three more works while they were in Antwerp. The world's oleo and the philosophical and physical opinions in 1655 and nature's pictures in 1656.

Four years later, after spending nearly her entire adulthood as an expat, Margaret moved back to her home country. She would reside in England for the rest of her life. 1660 was, of course, also the year Charles II made his grand return home, reestablishing the monarchy. William, so thrilled at the prospect of returning to his homeland and serving the king he had actually tutored when he was a boy, sailed for England even before the royal entourage did.

In Margaret's autobiography, she quotes his reaction upon finally seeing the smoke of London on the horizon. I have been 16 years asleep and am not thoroughly awake yet. Margaret, however, did not hear those words firsthand. William's departure for England was so rushed, in fact, that Margaret had to stay behind as a security for his debts. As Margaret biographer Francesca Peacock phrases it, this situation was another classic Cavendish contradiction. It was a role that required independence. She had to organize the transport of all their possessions to England, deal with the

magistrates of Antwerp and secure another loan to pay off those remaining bills, but at the same time Margaret was quite literally being used as collateral, a pawn for his debts, in her own words. Margaret expresses no displeasure at this turn of events, despite her repeated opinion of marriage as a financial deal for men and bondage for women. For all of her historically overlooked positive qualities, Margaret was also inherently contradictory and often myopic in her otherwise progressive positions. We cannot forget, after all, the influence of her royalist politics on her thinking. For example, in sociable letters, she writes that, the disturbance in this country, referring pretty casually to the civil war, hath made no breach of friendship betwixt women. For though,

There hath been a civil war in the kingdom and a general war amongst the men, yet there have been none amongst the women. Margaret naturally did not know any parliamentary women who might disagree. It's a line of thinking that still echoes today when feminist talking points failed to consider other social metrics. Margaret was alone for about three months following William's departure for London. With the couple's affairs sorted, the proud royalist boarded a Dutch worship and set sail herself for England. Sea journeys and their unpredictable, potentially destructive outcomes are a major recurring motif in Margaret's work.

In comparison to her near-death experience departing England by boat when she was a teenager, her return trip was nothing but smooth sailing. life in London was not as easy. William, once again, officially the Marquise of Newcastle upon Tyne, expected a prestigious court appointment for his service to the late Charles I and the young Charles the second. By the time of Margaret's arrival, however, no such appointment had come. William was eventually appointed to some conciliatory but ultimately powerless positions. Fet up, he respectfully took his leave from court to retire to his country estate. For the first time, Margaret was to see Wellbeck,

where once upon a time, William and Charles curated their intellectual circle later deemed the Wellbeck Academy. The estate was not the jewel it had once been. In place of accommodations designed for royalty and fame scholars, were now, in Margaret's words, but some few old feather beds and all those spoiled. Fit for no use. Much like the estate, the Cavendish family situation was in disorder.

Margaret was not quite given the evil stepmother treatment, but some of William's children and longtime employees considered her influence on him too powerful. While they may have been misplacing their frustrations, William was, in fact, giving them a number of reasons to worry. Now back in England, the Marquess finally settled the jointure, or the portion of his estate that would be left to Margaret in the event that he died before her,

that normally would have been finalized upon their marriage. Margaret was set to have an annuity of 1,125 pounds, as well as possession of the manners, Chesterfield, Woodthorpe, and William's favorite, Bolsver Castle. In later years, he would add another home and more land to that already generous arrangement. Henry, William's youngest son and heir, following the deaths of his uncle and older brother,

feared that there would be no land left for his own children or for the continuation of the male line and family name, considering that William was 30 years his wife's senior, Henry, understandably, saw the jointure as a pretty sure thing. This wasn't the only concern. Margaret's dearest friend had married a Dutch businessman named Francis Topp during their exile abroad. William was evidently so impressed by Topp

that he replaced Welbeck's long-term steward, Andrew Clayton, with that new acquaintance. Clayton blamed his displacement on Margaret and teamed up with an unhappy tenant of Williams to turn the Marquess against his wife. They wrote an unsigned letter in which they blamed Williams' diminished respect at court on Margaret

and went even further as to accuse her of committing adultery with Top. All of that sitcom-esque scheming was ultimately for, not. William saw through their ruse quite clearly. Margaret was, but of course, still publishing through the drama. Her first collection of plays, published with the mouthful of a title, plays written by the thrice-noble, illustrious, and excellent princess, was printed in 1662. Notably, it was also Margaret's first book printed by a woman, the widow of the

of the printer Thomas Warren, Alice, took over her husband's business after he passed. And from 1666 onwards, almost all of Margaret's works were published by Anne Maxwell, the widow of David Maxwell, who had inherited and managed her late husband's rather large business on her own. At this point, Margaret was still a crazy countess, but she was about to become the crazy Duchess, history would remember her as. In 1664, William was finally rewarded by his old pupil and friend. On June 7th, he received a letter from Charles II, reading, I am resolved to grant your request. Send me, therefore, word, what title you desire to have, or whether you will choose to keep your old and leave the rest to me. I am glad you enjoy your health, for I am. I am glad you enjoy your

health, for I love you very well. William was to be made a Duke, the highest rank of English nobility below the monarch. It would take a year to make things official, but in 1655, Margaret and William traveled to London for a small ceremony where they were officially recognized as the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle-on-Tyne. In 1666, William sold one of his country estates to buy back Newcastle House, the family home in London. In 1667, the couple moved in and found themselves in the heart of the city's social scene. The king visited their home, and the couple visited court to meet his queen for the first time. They hosted fellow aristocrats and intellectuals, including many of Margaret's philosophical correspondence. The writer John Evelyn visited Margaret several times a week,

delighted by her extraordinary, fanciful habit, garb and discourse. John Evelyn's wife did not share his good opinion. Never did I see, she wrote, a woman so full of herself, so amazingly vain and ambitious. Margaret's reputation, both positive and negative, was growing by the day. Some of her rising notoriety was of her own doing. Evil and wife goes on to say that Cavendish took occasion to cite her own pieces line and page in such a book and to tell the adventures of some of her nymphs. Margaret wanted to be a serious philosopher, and beyond that, she wanted to be a world. Accounts from the social season of 1667 make it clear she had achieved something close to celebrity status,

and was recognizable enough to be regularly surrounded on the street. 1666 saw the publication of her most famous work, The Blazing World, which we discussed in the introduction of last week's episode. Margaret's recognizability, however, did have a little bit more to do with her fashion than with her writing. To get an idea of what exactly was so daring about Margaret's clothing, A letter from a young man who saw Margaret Cavendish at the premiere of Williams' play, The Humorous Lovers, describes her as having her breasts all laid out to view and accessorized with scarlet trimmed nipples. Fashionable cleavage was not uncommon in the period, but Margaret was taking things further than socially accepted.

But her style was not without purpose. Like her work, she was seeking to emulate. the Greco-Roman classics. Margaret also had a strong preference for black patches or mouchet, which were typically worn to cover blemishes and make the complexion look lighter by contrast, and she fancied accessories usually associated with the masculine, including certain styles of hats and vests. Her rise in status culminated in a visit to the prestigious, exclusive royal society. established in 1660, Margaret had actually originally been highly critical of the society's approach to science, which she viewed as hubristic.

Though her visit was arranged by a friend, there is no doubt a large portion of the society was unhappy with her presence there. Not only was she a woman, the Royal Society would not elect a female fellow for three more centuries, but she was the most gossiped about woman in London, after all, the crazy Duchess. She arrived at the Royal Society late, in a gilded carriage and wearing a dress with a train, which, as described by one spectator, took up half a road at least. She had to be literally carried inside by her maids of honor like she was at the Metgala. She was roughly a decade ahead of her time with a dress of that style, but even more unusual was her decision to pair the gown with a masculine, wide-brimmed hat.

In all her extravagance, Margaret walked the halls of the Royal Society, listening and learning about their ongoing experiments. Margaret's presence in the Royal Society was an experiment in its own way. As she observed their work, the men observed her, the woman who proudly called herself a philosopher, wanted to be an empress, in fiction at least, dressed like a performer, and was also so shy that she hardly spoke. Through all her contradictions, her greatest desire was to be amongst the greats,

to have her name on everyone's lips. She knew that she was not the most talented or educated writer, but she would reach for it nonetheless. As the character of the Empress says in The Blazing World, she would rather die in the adventure of noble achievements than live in obscurity and sluggish serenity. Margaret's time as a London socialite was grand, but I imagine, given her social anxiety,

she felt some relief when the couple returned to the country following that busy summer. Her focus at this point became editing and translating her older works for reissues. In 1668, she published what would be her final volume of her new work, plays never before printed. In the early 1670s, Margaret returned to conducting her own scientific experiments, as she had once done with her brother-in-law Charles. Though she seemed a source of perpetual motion, Margaret Cavendish died suddenly on December 15, 1773. At 50 years old, she had already published more than a dozen original works. We don't know how she died, but we do know William would constantly remind her to be mindful of her health

and fought to pull her away from her writing to exercise. In an absolutely delightful retort, she once wrote, The motions of my mind hinders the active exercises of my body. For should I dance or run or walk a pace, I should dance my thoughts out of measure, run my fancies out of breath, and tread out the feet of my numbers. William, who outlived his wife after all, assembled a posthumous collection in his wife's honor, letters and poems in honor of the incomparable princess Margaret Duchess of Newcastle,

which was published just months before he died in 1676. Margaret's greatest desire to be a world or nothing was born out of a fear of becoming obsolete. The desire for fame proceeds from a doubt of being an afterthought. Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, Margaret's work was not forgotten, but the subject of repeated criticism and mockery. In 1844's Memoirs of Eminent English Women, Louisa Stewart Costello, bidingly, writes, In almost every age, there has been some such self-esteem Phoenix, whose harmless conceit does but little injury, but is nevertheless a general, annoyance, except to the tradesmen she employs to print and bind the countless volumes with which she delights to adorn her own library. Tell us how you really feel, Louisa.

Cavendish had become, as Wolf put it, in a room of one's own, a bogey to frighten clever young girls with, a cautionary tale. See, girls, if you try to write, you might become like the Crazy Duchess. In more recent years of scholarship, however, Margaret's contributions and natural philosophy and fiction have been canonically acknowledged. She might be the giant cucumber, Wolf described her as, crushing her floral contemporaries in the Garden of Good Taste, but you can't deny that a cucumber takes up space. Margaret was buried in the joint tomb William had purchased at Westminster Abbey. He could never have imagined his wife, 30 years his junior, would be laid to rest inside before he. The monument in which the couple now lay side by side can still be seen at the

abbey today. Visitors will see the couple elaborately sculpted in ceremonial dress, lying peacefully next to each other. If they look closely, they can see a book and an ink pot in Margaret's left hand. Look even closer and they'll read the inscription below, telling them that here lies a wise, witty, and learned lady, which many of her books do well testify. Decide for yourself. That's the story of Margaret Cavendish, but keep listening after a brief sponsor break

to hear a little reminder about one of her forebears. I'm Iris Palmer and my new podcast is called Against All Od and that's exactly what the show is about. doing whatever it takes to be thoughts. Get ready to hear from some of your favorite entrepreneurs and entertainers as they share stories about defying expectations, overcoming barriers and breaking generational patterns. I'm talking to people like award-winning actress, producer, and director, Eva Lengoria. I think I had like $200 in my savings account and my mom goes, what are you going to do? And I was like, I'll figure it out.

We got a one-bedroom apartment for like $400 a month and we all could not afford. I was like, how am I going to make $100 a month? I'm opening up like I've never before. For those of you who think you know me from what you've seen on social media, get ready to see a whole new side of me. Listen to Against All Odds with Iris Palmer as part of the MyCultura podcast network, available on the IHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. In our earlier episode on Lady Mary Roth,

the first English woman to publish fiction under her own name, we mentioned that it would take 40 years for another English woman to do the same. This woman was, of course, Margaret Cavendish. What Margaret had feared had happened to Mary. Mary was shunned by society after her prose fiction Urania's 1621 release shocked the English court. One detractor, Edward Denny, infamously called her a hermaphrodite in show indeed a monster in a scathing poem. In the preface to 1664's sociable letters,

Margaret Cavendish quotes the final couplet from Denny's poem to marry. Work, oh, the works, leave idle books alone, for wise and worthier women have writ none. Noble Blood is a production of I-Heart Radio and Grimm and Mild from Aaron Manky. Noble Blood is hosted by me, Dana Schwartz, with additional writing and research by Hannah Johnston, Hannah Zwick, Courtney Sender, Amy Height, and Julia Milani. The show is edited and produced by Jesse Funk,

with supervising producer Rima Il Kali, and executive producers Aaron Manke, Trevor Young, and Matt Frederick. For more podcasts from IHeartRadio, visit the IHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen to your favorite shows. Hello, gorgeous, it's Lala Kent. Host of Untraditionally Lala. My days of filling up cups at Sir may be over,

but I'm still loving life in the valley. Life on the other side of the hill is giving grown-up vibes, but over here on my podcast, Untraditionally Lala, I'm still that Lala you either love or love to hate. It's unruly, it's unruly afraid, it's untraditionally Lala. Listen to Untraditionally Lala on the IHeartRadio app, Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast. This is an IHeart podcast. Guaranteed human.