Taffy is tough, it is malleable, it is sweet, it is salty. It’s a bit gross. Taffy sticks with you, even when you don’t want it to. Taffy is all these things and more.

Taffy understands that there is little space between “culture” and “politics,” each demands consideration in the context of the other. Likewise, there is equally little space between “style” and “substance” — the medium is the message, so to speak. This magazine is a curated collection of cultures, styles, politics, and (of course) substances. Most importantly, Taffy is less concerned with telling you what to think, and far more concerned with finding new ways to think. This magazine is alive, it is didactic, it bites back.

Taffy is made by and for people who believe in things, people who laugh too loud, people who are too mean sometimes, people who are too sensitive sometimes, people who tease, people who please, people with purple bruises, people with yellow bruises, lovers, fighters, hoarders, neurotics, writers, busboys, bus drivers, sluts, prudes, tennis players, commuters, and computers.