Indeed it was a very lobster and polo event. Ralph Lauren aka Ralph Lifshitz was very well represented in the dress code, as well as the more vulgar Gucci and its likes. I felt underdressed regardless.
“Don’t worry, all you have to do to go into the VIP tent is roll your sleeves down over your wristband and act pretentious”
Well Christ, Yale men don’t need to show ID to get into the Yale Club. The fancy punch tasted great and we all just needed a few to let loose for the post-match circa-70s themed cover band, which completely murdered the quasi-wholesome dance vibe.
“1: We basically gave sixty bucks to drive two hours into New York and stand on this field in our douchiest clothes.
2: I know, its awesome right!”
Nothing like a good old party bus on a Saturday morning. The ride was quite literally almost half the fun, given that it was 2 hours there and 2 hours back and we stayed for 5 hours. Although Yale got trashed by UVA, the fans of both teams got smashed together. It was certainly a day to remember from our Bright College Years.
“Why won’t anyone take a Fly Blade with me?”
Going out in New York post-Harriman was for sure the move if you wanted to assert dominance with Dad’s credit card. But taking a helicopter back to the city is what you have to do if you want to keep up these days. Inflation really hurts.
“Wow I love Yale. All these people studying and doing hard psets while we’ve been blackout since 9 AM.”
It’s us versus them. But one is left to ask the eternal question of a college student in the scene: who constitutes “us”? As Justice Potter Stewart so eloquently stated, I know it when I see it.