Amelia Dimoldenberg appears to be dating Olivia Rodrigo's film producer ex-boyfriend
The 31-year-old has been making a show of her singledom for years as part of her beloved interview format, but that could all be changing.
Because Dimoldenberg is now in a relationship and, heartbreakingly, it's not with Andrew Garfield. Nor is it with a famous rapper, as appeared to be Dimoldenberg's previous 'type.'
The Daily Mail has revealed that Dimoldenberg is currently dating American film producer Adam Faze.
The pair were spotted at the Vanity Fair EE BAFTA 2025 Rising Star party this Wednesday and are thought to have met through mutual friends.
While Faze may not be hugely well known, he has been previously linked with Grammy award-winning singer Olivia Rodrigo, whom he dated in 2021, when Rodrigo was 20 and he was reportedly 26.
But Faze and Dimoldenberg may have some serious compatibility, given that Faze has created a viral internet show of his own.
Faze is the producer of 'Boy Room', the social media series that sees a female presenter rearrange the unoptimised living spaces of adult men. Kind of like Bobby from Queer Eye if he came in Instagram Reels form.
'Before I became a full-time creator, I was working in Hollywood as a producer attempting to sell TV shows and movies in an industry that was shrinking,' Faze previously said of his career path. '[Now, I'm] making shows the average young person has actually seen.'
Meanwhile Dimoldenberg is the creator of the wildly successful Chicken Shop Date YouTube series, where she interviews celebrities in various London chicken shops.
The series has catapulted her to global fame and Dimoldenberg now regularly features as a red carpet interviewer for glitzy Hollywood events, including the Golden Globes and the Oscars.
Dimoldenberg has been romantically linked to former guests on her Chicken Shop Dates series, including rapper Aitch, but Adam Faze has yet to make an appearance. Perhaps we can expect a Boy Room/Chicken Shop Dates crossover in the near future.
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The Hill
13 minutes ago
- The Hill
Arnold Schwarzenegger lays wreath at George Washington's tomb at Mount Vernon
MOUNT VERNON, Va. (DC News Now) — 'America's First Action Hero. Love, Arnold.' That was the message on the wreath that Arnold Schwarzenegger placed at the tomb of George Washington on July 4 when the former California governor visited Mount Vernon, home of the country's first president. Schwarzenegger was the keynote speaker at a naturalization ceremony in which more than 100 people from 95 countries took the oath to become citizens of the U.S. The actor and former governor, who was born in Austria, took the oath in 1982. 'The day I raised my right hand and became an American citizen was, without a doubt, one of the greatest days of my life,' Schwarzenegger said. 'If you told me on that day that 43 years later I would be standing at Mount Vernon, the home of one of my heroes and a historic symbol of freedom and democracy, to welcome more new citizens, I would have been shocked.' 'But that's the beauty of the United States of America: nothing is impossible,' he continued. Schwarzenegger added, 'I owe everything to this country, and I can't wait to share this moment with these new citizens to remind them of the limitless opportunity afforded by their new home. I hope they will feel the same debt of gratitude that I've tried to repay throughout my whole life by giving back, being committed to our Constitution, and united by our shared values.' The action film star provided design input for the wreath. The flowers that were part of it included white yarrow and Austrian fir to represent Austria, white stock, red, and blue anemone, along with silver dollar eucalyptus to represent California, freedom red roses, dark and light blue delphinium, white hydrangea, and red hypericum berry to represent Mount Vernon. Doug Bradburn, Mount Vernon President and CEO, read Washington's Prayer for His Country.
USA Today
3 hours ago
- USA Today
Metal heads, TikTokers, shiny new airports: Greenland, but not as you think you know it
Special Report: Greenland's relatively isolated indigenous Inuit culture finds itself increasingly exposed to the world just as President Donald Trump pushes to take over the territory. NUUK, Greenland − Musicians Pani and Sebastian Enequist sport once-suppressed Inuit face tattoos, hunt seals for food in remote fjords and honor nature "like a God." But they found their calling − and each other − while they were obsessing over the American heavy metal band Slipknot. For thousands of years, Greenland's Inuit people survived the world's harshest conditions by living off whales, seals, polar bears, fish and caribou. Now, gleaming new airports are opening up. TikTok stars are proliferating. A relatively isolated indigenous culture, long dominated by ruling Denmark, finds itself increasingly exposed to the world just as President Donald Trump pushes to take over the Arctic territory. Still, if music can tell ancient and modern stories alike, then the Sound of the Damned, the Enequists' Nuuk-based hardcore metal band, has a musical plotline that wends across time and place. The group's raspy, guttural-growl vocals, introspective lyrics and aggressive beats are old and young. Native and foreign-born. They illustrate how change is sweeping through the island's unique heritage, even as some things stay the same. 'Buy us!': Greenlanders shocked, intrigued, bewildered by Trump zeal for Arctic territory "We want to play metal. We also want to represent our culture," said Pani Enequist, 32, who writes Sound of the Damned's lyrics and recently began performing with them. Her husband Sebastian, 29, is the band's lead singer and guitarist. The group's new material incorporates an Inuit drum called a "qilaat," mask dancing and throat singing, where hums, gasps and grunts mimic the sounds of animals, streams and icebergs. The Enequists said that in 2016, they were among the first of a new generation of Greenlanders to get face tattoos, known in Greenlandic as Kakiuineq, as a way to reclaim and celebrate their Inuit ancestral roots, traditions and spirituality. They also view them as a way of rejecting the legacy of Denmark's 18th-century Christian missionaries, who labeled the practice as pagan and sought to have it banned. Their meanings are linked to Inuit cosmology and rites of passage. Trump wants to buy Greenland: Denmark's first move? Alter its royal coat of arms Greenland's music scene: small but mighty Greenland's music scene is small, with the number of musicians and bands working in Nuuk estimated in the low dozens, according to Christian Elsner, whose family owns Atlantic Music, a record label and music store in Greenland's capital that sells instruments and albums. Greenland has a Spotify-style streaming service called Tusass Music, linked to its postal service, only accessible to users in Greenland and Denmark. Atlantic Music also houses one of Greenland's few full-blown recording studios. It sits in the basement of a squat, gabled house framed by a veranda-style front porch. Across the street is Nuuk Center, an eight-story ultra-modern office tower, which would not look out of place in a European city. Greenland's not for sale: It is welcoming Americans with direct flights. On Trump's birthday Nuuk Center is Greenland's tallest building. It is also home to its first shopping mall, which opened in 2012. On its upper floors are offices for the Naalakkersuisut or Greenlandic government, which is trying to boost tourism and the local economy by rebuilding and expanding three new airports for direct international flights. The first direct U.S. flights to Greenland began on June 14 − Trump's birthday. This is something many Greenlanders feel ambivalent about. They want American tourists to visit. They don't want to become part of the United States, polls show. Sounds of the Arctic Laura Lennert Jensen works for Arctic Sounds, a Greenland-based music management company that represents and promotes local artists. Arctic Sounds also stages an annual music festival − the Arctic Sounds Festival − in Sisimiut, in central western Greenland, which showcases original music acts from Nordic countries. About 90% of Greenland's 57,000 people identify as Inuit. Jensen said Greenlanders first started making popular music that wasn't traditional Inuit music in the 1970s. In keeping with the times, it was influenced by popular British rock and roll acts of the day, such as Pink Floyd and Deep Purple. Over time, access to the internet improved. So did the advent of software that made it easier for musicians to write and record music without a professional studio. Greenland's music has diversified to include rap, reggae, electronica, country, pop and everything in between. 'One way or the other': Five ways Trump's Greenland saga could play out On a recent evening in Nuuk, Jensen took USA TODAY on a whistle-stop tour of a few of Nuuk's live music hotspots, where the acts included lounge singers, folk rock bands and jazz artists. All sang in Greenlandic to attentive local audiences. As did Kuuna, an up-and-coming pop singer who strode self-assuredly around the ring, belting out tunes in between rounds at a Thai boxing event like a fledgling Greenlandic version of Beyoncé. "Some of our musicians do not carry a single trace of Inuit music in what they create," Jensen said. "Others carry it as symbolism, to reflect history or to revitalize techniques that have been lost." Denmark's Greenland experiment Greenland was a Danish colony until 1953. For hundreds of years prior, it was under Danish authority. That era began with the arrival of a Danish-Norwegian Lutheran missionary priest named Hans Egede in 1721. In 1979, Greenland was granted home rule. Thirty years later, it became a self-governing entity. Today, Denmark retains control over Greenland's foreign affairs, defense and macro-economic policy. The Greenlandic government manages areas such as education, healthcare, natural resources and culture. During colonial rule, Denmark enforced assimilation policies for the Inuit population. It unofficially prohibited the Greenlandic language. In 1951, it removed 22 children from their families and put them in Danish homes, an experiment aimed at turning them into model "Little Danes." 'We want to be Greenlanders': Slow independence party wins vote, but pro-US party gains In the 1960s and 1970s, as many as 4,500 women and girls − half of the fertile women in Greenland, according to Danish authorities − were subjected to forced sterilization by government physicians, using painful intrauterine devices. Greenland was in the early stages of its modernization. This included a construction boom that attracted many Danish workers and led to a high birth rate among Inuit women. Denmark's city planners wanted to limit Greenland's population growth. The Danish government has issued formal apologies for these policies. But many Greenlanders remain shocked and bitter about these episodes, which helped fuel calls for independence from Denmark. Greenlanders also believe that deep-rooted biases remain and a broader pattern of ongoing systemic discrimination favors Danes in areas such as access to lucrative jobs and promotions, according to Ulrik Pram Gad, a researcher at the Danish Institute for International Studies in Copenhagen. "Many of us feel like there is discrimination in the workplace in Greenland when it comes to high-ranking positions," said Orla Joelsen, a prison official in Nuuk whose job falls under the authority of Denmark's justice department. Joelsen said he was speaking in a private capacity. Greenlanders are underrepresented in the upper echelons of the island's corporate world, according to Gad, the Denmark-based researcher. In his spare time, Joelsen runs a popular X account about Greenland that has been highly critical of Trump's interest in Greenland. "It's going to be a long four years," he said. Greenland's influencers Some Greenlanders appear more ready than others for Greenland's shifting cultural tectonic plates. "On my TikTok account, I talk a lot about what groceries I'm buying," said Malu Falck, 32, a singer and graphic designer in Nuuk whose short-form social videos about everyday life in Greenland have helped bring her a whole new following. Falck has almost 10,000 followers on TikTok. She is not yet making money off of TikTok, she said, though her image was displayed as part of an ad in the window of a Nuuk storefront. "It's new in Greenland, but people are getting used to it," Falck said of TikTok. She estimated that about 100 Greenlanders are "very active" on YouTube, TikTok and other social media. One of them is Qupanuk Olsen, a Greenlandic mining engineer and politician known for her vlogs about Greenland's culture, history and traditional Inuit life. Olsen's posts on Instagram, TikTok and YouTube routinely reach half a million people. But it is in music where Greenland's overlapping identities are perhaps most directly observable. Varna Marianne Nielsen, 44, is a Greenlandic filmmaker, music producer and practitioner of traditional drum dancing and drum singing. The latter involves performing with a stick made of bone or wood that is rhythmically struck against a frame drum or qilaat to make an echoing beat. Distorted maps have misled you: Greenland isn't as big as you think. Nielsen descends from a long line of drum dancers, but grew up listening to American blues, jazz and rock music. "I have both of these traditions in me," she said. Nielsen described her music as "sweeping from the ice and the land." In 2014, she had a role in an episode of the TV series "True Detective," for which she co-produced multiple original scores. Nielsen said that, as a child, she was proud of her Greenlandic heritage but didn't necessarily understand how her identity had been shaped and influenced by Denmark. As an adult, Nielsen said, she has felt compelled to help revive the drum dancing and drum singing tradition that was neglected by earlier generations. Her work includes field recordings and electronically-composed beats. Nielsen was surprised to learn recently, while doing research in Denmark, that her grandfather's drum was exhibited in the National Museum in Copenhagen. She found this discovery upsetting because it illustrated how, even now, Greenland's culture is being expropriated by Denmark. "It is still difficult to access our treasures when they are in a different country and not home where they belong," she said, adding that she hoped Danish authorities would repatriate Greenland's drums. Like Pani Enequist from Sound of the Damned, Nielsen's fingers are encircled by tattoos. Their meaning connects to Sassuma Arnaa, or "Mother of the Sea," an Inuit creation myth about the goddess Sedna. Versions of the myth vary. But the story tells how Sedna came to rule over the Inuit underworld. In one version, Sassuma was a woman who was mistreated by her family and thrown into the sea by her father, when her fingers were severed and became seals, whales and other marine life for which the Arctic is known. Sound of the Damned is spending several weeks this summer touring Danish schools, where band members will talk to children about Greenland's Inuit culture. On stage, they wear "corpse paint"– a style of makeup that gives them a macabre look. Enequist said this has little to do with Greenland and everything to do with music from Metallica to Slipknot that shaped the band's sound and formed the backdrop to her courtship with her husband. "There is no contradiction in that," she said. Keeping it Greenlandic Elsner, whose family owns Atlantic Music, is also a musician. He plays in Nanook, perhaps Greenland's most successful band of the modern era. The group's name refers to Greenland's mythological polar bear, which is on the territory's coat of arms and symbolizes Greenland's wildness. Since the band formed in 2008, Nanook's brand of melancholic folk-pop has sold around 5,000 records in Greenland − meaning that about 1 in 10 Greenlanders, 1 in 4 or 5 households, could own one. Nanook refused an offer to sign with the Sony record label early on in the band's career because it wanted them to sing in English. Elsner said he and his brother, also a vocalist in Nanook, found the idea "too awkward and unnatural." They also worried it would be a kind of betrayal of their Greenlandic inheritance. Not many international music artists travel to Greenland, Elsner said. Distance and expense are factors. Also, there are no roads connecting Greenland's settlements. Nanook has toured Greenland by boat, plane, helicopter, dog sled and snowmobile. Never a tour bus. Elsner said that even though the American metal band Metallica has a Danish drummer in Lars Ulrich, the California-based group has never made the trip. But in the late 1990s, a British band called Blur did show up in Greenland. They played to about 1,000 people in a now-defunct Nuuk bowling alley. And Damon Albarn, Blur's lead singer, endeared himself to Greenlanders, Elsner said, because he did an interview that featured in a documentary saying it was hypocritical for Westerners to criticize Greenlanders for eating seals, whales and other Arctic marine life when there wasn't any major livestock industry in Greenland. "Seals," Albarn said, were "the cows of Greenland" and they had much better lives – and deaths − than Western industrial livestock, which are often raised in intense confinement in pens and cages. Elsner said Greenland is a paradox. "It's this crazy beautiful place where there is a dark side," he said, referring to high rates of alcoholism, suicide and incest in some communities. He said Greenland's good and bad, old and new, seeps into its music. Socially conscious rappers talk about colonization. Metal bands like Sound of the Damned sing about "how they want their culture back." Other musicians address the idea of independence from Denmark. And others still, like Elsner's own band, write songs about nature and "stuff that happens to us" and deliberately avoid writing political songs. And if they do, couch them in metaphors "so it doesn't affect some people the wrong way," he said. Greenland's music, Elsner said, is, like the place, staying true to its origins yet also evolving. There are signs, beyond music, of Greenland on the move. A reporter saw one Tesla hum and whir by in Nuuk. There's rumored to be a second one among Greenland's approximately 6,500 cars for an island that's about half the size of the Indian subcontinent and has fewer than 60 miles of road and just three traffic lights. A local boat captain who sails with tourists in Nuuk and elsewhere said that he'd seen only one polar bear in his entire life. It was in a zoo in Copenhagen.
Chicago Tribune
4 hours ago
- Chicago Tribune
Biblioracle: Dana A. Williams tells the tale of the indomitable Toni Morrison in ‘Toni at Random'
I'm well acquainted with the fact that Toni Morrison is the greatest American writer of my lifetime. I know this because I've read her books, but I could also point to a little something called the Nobel Prize in literature, which she was awarded in 1993. I also know that for a number of years in the early 1970s, just as she was publishing her first novels, Morrison worked as an editor at Random House, shepherding books by luminaries like Angela Davis and Muhammad Ali (among many others) to publication. Previously, this fact was a curio, a trivia question of the 'Did you know?' variety, but thanks to a new book from Dana A. Williams, 'Toni at Random: The Iconic Writer's Legendary Editorship,' I have a new appreciation not just for Toni Morrison the writer and editor, but for the work of writing and editing in general. Williams, a professor of African American literature and graduate school dean at Howard University, has crafted a book that manages to satisfy as narrative, literary analysis and cultural criticism, offering multiple points of entry for different readers in search of different things. The acknowledgements reveal that the book is 20 years or more in the making and it shows in a book written with great knowledge, deep feeling and a sense of purpose. In this way, Williams mimics the work of her subject. At its heart, 'Toni at Random' feels like the tale of the 'indomitable Ms. Morrison,' as Williams draws on correspondence and interviews with Morrison to unfurl the tale of a Black woman trying to make space for Black writers in an overwhelmingly white industry. Random House is portrayed as open, even eager to publish Black writers in the immediate wake of the Civil Rights Movement and the rise of the Black Arts Movement of poets like Amiri Baraka and Nikki Giovanni. But Morrison is also swimming against the realities of business and culture, where sales and profit are paramount, and many believe there isn't a sufficient audience for books by Black authors that don't have obvious appeal to white readers. Carefully, tactically, inexorably, Morrison seeks to challenge this notion while championing writers she sees as unimpeachable in terms of originality and artistry. This included writers like Toni Cade Bambara (who became Morrison's lifelong friend), Gayl Jones (of whose talent Morrison was envious) and Leon Forrest (legendary Chicago writer and longtime professor at Northwestern). Williams shows how savvy and even calculating Morrison was as she positioned these books for the best chance of success in the marketplace, pursuing blurbs from luminaries like James Baldwin, and horse-trading for pre-publication publicity and review attention. Her attention to detail extended even to a book's interior design. We learn how Morrison would alternately massage the egos of authors or challenge them to step up the diligence and quality of their work. When she felt her acuity as an editor was being questioned, she would respond with sly barbs asserting her authority. Williams ingeniously structures the book around different threads of Morrison's editorial work, non-fiction, fiction, a whole chapter on Ali, another on Davis, and others. The chronology weaves back and forth, but we're never lost. Periodically, we're reminded that while all this is happening, Morrison is also writing and publishing 'The Bluest Eye,' 'Sula,' and 'Song of Solomon,' establishing herself as a major literary figure in her own right. As Williams reveals the inside story of the publishing of some of these books, I kept underlining titles, thinking my next step is to find copies so I can read them and see what Morrison saw. John Warner is the author of books including 'More Than Words: How to Think About Writing in the Age of AI.' You can find him at Book recommendations from the Biblioracle John Warner tells you what to read based on the last five books you've read. 1. 'Spooky Great Lakes' retold by S.E. Schlosser 2. 'Howard's End' by E.M. Forster 3. 'Disappearing Earth' by Julia Phillips 4. 'Bastard Out of Carolina' by Dorothy Allison 5. 'Forward Progress: Confessions from a Rookie College Football Official' by Todd SkaggsFor Tom, I'm going to recommend a highly entertaining tale of adventure and revenge by a writer like no other, 'True Grit' by Charles Portis. 1. 'The Tsar of Love and Techno' by Anthony Marra 2. 'Cosmicomics' by Italo Calvino 3. 'In the Distance' by Hernán Díaz 4. 'The Sympathizer' by Viet Thanh Nguyen 5. 'The Orphan Master's Son' by Adam JohnsonLyle doesn't seem to mind a book with some quirks. 'May We Be Forgiven' by A.M. Homes is near the top of my list of books where you're never on totally solid ground. A wonderful sensation if you're in the right headspace for it. 1. 'I Heard Her Call My Name' by Lucy Sante 2. 'A Field Guide for Getting Lost' by Rebecca Solnit 3. 'Ongoingness: The End of a Diary' by Sarah Manguso 4. 'Miracles' by C.S. Lewis 5. 'Bluets' by Maggie NelsonSome searching writing about life and identity in this list. This brings to mind a favorite of mine, even though the beliefs and life of this author are entirely different from my own: 'The Seven Storey Mountain' by Thomas Merton. Get a reading from the Biblioracle Send a list of the last five books you've read and your hometown to biblioracle@
