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Lydia Gompper


Articles

One year later: A freshman’s ode to Princeton Preview

One year ago, visiting this campus — a place now so intimately familiar to me — was an excursion into a world of dreams. Truly. Princeton had been, for so long, The Dream, and arriving at Preview felt more incredible than becoming a princess, slaying a dragon, or learning to fly. It was the stuff of fairy tales. 


Fashion secrets for exhausted students: How not to look like you just woke up at 5 PM

You just woke up from a twelve-hour hibernation, and yes, it’s five in the afternoon. You groan, mumble incoherently, and try in vain to wipe the delirium from your eyes. Before you crawl out of your room and impose yourself on the world, you must make yourself at least semi-presentable. Even if you don’t feel like you have a corporeal form, you should always look like you do.


Interview with the Director of Theater Intime's "Stop Kiss"

Being a director is an intense experience, and doing it for the first time can be beyond intimidating. The Daily Princetonian got in touch with Regina Zeng ’18, director of Theatre Intime’s upcoming production of “Stop Kiss”, to find out how she approached her first time directing a full-length play.


An insider's look at “The Nutcracker”

The ballet is a staple of the winter season, telling the story of a young girl whose mysterious Christmas gift, the titular Nutcracker, whisks her on an adventure through a magical land of evil rats and dancing sugarplums. From Nov. 24 through 26, the American Repertory Ballet gave this show a home here in Princeton, New Jersey, on the McCarter Theatre’s stage.


A look at fall break (from those who stayed on campus)

Fall break. For most, those two words evoke images of relaxation, catching up on TV, sleeping, visiting family, leaving midterm essays until the last possible second, and sleeping some more. It is essentially a week-long nap mixed with a frantic bingeing of “Stranger Things” season two.


Walking the Street

  As a doe-eyed, inexperienced baby pre-frosh, I imagined parties at Princeton in three ways: A) The frat boy dream. Hordes of sweaty people dancing with the apparent intent of getting even sweatier. Muscle-bound econ majors doing keg stands while some poor lightweight pukes his third beer all over a pretty girl’s shoes. B) Intoxicated geniuses spewing pretentiousness. Screams of, “Oh, no, I got a stain on my new Lilly Pulitzer.” You take a shot of hundred dollar vodka for every amendment to the Constitution you can’t quote verbatim.   C) Nonexistent.