At this year’s WSJ. Magazine Innovator Awards, Billie Eilish asked, “If you’re a billionaire, why are you a billionaire? Give your money away” — a line that instantly reverberated far beyond the room. It was a reminder of the event’s magnetic pull and its place as a mirror for culture’s contradictions. Under Editor in Chief Sarah Ball, WSJ. Magazine has become precisely that kind of reflection: glamorous, self-aware, and culturally indispensable.
In this episode, Ball reflects on her path from a D.C. household stacked with newspapers to leading a magazine that continues to grow in both influence and revenue. She speaks about the art of editing in an age of speed, the new language of luxury journalism, and the enduring power of a story told with precision and care.
“I loved beautiful glossy fashion and style media, but I also loved very tart writing about style and fashionable people — that eyebrow-raised, gimlet-eyed, social scorecard kind of writing that mixed elegance and critique.” - Sarah Ball
Episode Highlights:
Notable Quotes:
“My formative early years were very nosy, very inquisitive, and really shaped by a deeply periodical-consuming family. We got five newspapers delivered to my house every day — huge stacks of New Yorkers, Atlantics, National Journals, Guardians, Washington Posts, New York Times — everything. It looked like a newsstand where you’re navigating piles that might fall on you at any moment. That’s a cartoonish version of my childhood, but it’s not far off.”
“I loved beautiful glossy fashion and style media, but I also loved very tart writing about style and fashionable people — that eyebrow-raised, gimlet-eyed, social scorecard kind of writing that mixed elegance and critique. Robin Givhan, especially, showed me that fashion writing could be political, historical, and cultural all at once — that clothes could tell the story of a country.”
“Through school, I thought I wanted to cover politics — the swashbuckling feature storytelling around political actors. But halfway through college, working in London for the Associated Press, I realized I was more drawn to writing about culture. I fell in love with the energy of it — the chaos, the glamour, the absurdity — and thought, okay, maybe this is actually where I belong.”
“Vanity Fair was a golden age. You don’t know you’re in one until it’s over. Those years shaped my editorial taste and my sense of what’s a story and what’s not. It was a place that set a high bar for writing and craft, but it was also incredibly fun — you could publish a royal tour one day and a satire about the Hamptons the next. It felt like half journalism, half writer’s room.”
“Graydon Carter was obsessed with good writing. He only wanted good writers to work for him. He wanted stories that gave you new information in the most delightful and lively way possible — multiple acts, a bit of theater, a sense of pleasure. That has never left me.”
“There’s always nostalgia in media — every generation thinks the one before was more glamorous, more daring, more free. I’ve never been in this business without that undercurrent of ‘Oh, it was so much better then.’ Maybe that’s the occupational hazard of people who document culture — we always want to memorialize the moment just before it slips away.”
“I really believe quality wins out. It sounds simple, almost like a fortune cookie, but I’ve worked through twenty years of digital transformation where speed and volume were treated as the ultimate goals. I’ve always thought: if what you’re publishing is reheated garbage, are you really going to keep that reader? Probably not. So the job is to make sure what we serve is worth the appetite.”
“The Wall Street Journal is a luxury product. People pay a lot to access it, so they expect a lot. Meeting that expectation means offering information and visual experiences they can’t find elsewhere — stories that feel crafted, not recycled, and images that feel sumptuous, not disposable.”
“A cover has to surprise. It has to have new visual information. You should see someone in a new light — whether that’s a business leader or an actor. Famous people can speak to their fans directly now, so our challenge is to make the story and the image feel like an experience they can’t get anywhere else.”
“I genuinely believe what’s contemporary now is a playful and unself-serious sense of humor. For all the heaviness of the past decade, there’s something refreshing about watching people laugh together again — not with snark, not with cruelty, but with this collective wit that’s emerging online. That feels new, and that feels hopeful.”