Wednesday, January 20

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Lydia Gompper


Name, major, fun fact

The introductions trickle around the circle: the kid who’s already taken every class the professor has ever taught, the lone engineer, the person whose most thrilling fun fact is that they … own a cat. It’s the first day of your newest seminar, and it’s time for your first oral presentation. The topic? Yourself.


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.


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.


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