Showing posts with label Dear Old Dartmouth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dear Old Dartmouth. Show all posts
Dartmouth At The Olympics: Andrew Weibrecht
Not to spoil it but watch Andrew Weibrecht '08(?) shred it up in Super G tonight on NBC.
If you're antsy for how he did, click here for results.
F!re @ Phi Delt
Bad news here. Uninhabitable for the remainder of the school year.
Pour a little shitty beer out of your plastic cup at your first opportunity.
Less Hanover, More Roadtrip
AMDAL community,
Starting tomorrow, I'll be hitting the road west, where I'll surely find myself and untold fame and fortune. Don't worry, I won't forget the little people (you) that made this possible. As a means of repayment, I'll try to find some liveblogworthy things along the way. Unfortunately they will probably be less like this and more like this, as I'll be traveling with my dad. Estimated roadmap here.
Special thanks to [Apple Symbol], Erik J. and the 73EDub crew, Jim the
Hopefully Scos, CCL, [Apple Symbol], WOHJR and the other contributors will be able to keep you entertained with actual substance in the meantime.
See you on the other side.
Your Digital Record
AMDAL friends and Dartmouth grads Chris O'C. and Julian K. have started what seems to be an awesome online music service called Your Digital Record. I'll let them speak on it here:
Musicians and music lovers, we're pleased to have the opportunity here on AMDAL to pass on word of the website we recently launched: www.yourdigitalrecord.com.
In short, YDR is a project aimed at giving artists and fans a platform for easily creating and sharing interactive digital albums. Ourselves musicians, we first cooked up the idea a couple years ago, when we were searching for a better way to experience music online, and found that the internet was devoid of a decent service for creating and sharing digital albums. We shook hands as business partners, raised a little capital, started designing the site in our spare time, and slowly unwound our friendship over the next two years as we managed the project. But we couldn't be happier with the finished product.
As we're currently in the midst of a campaign to build our content base, we STRONGLY urge any musicians reading this to check it out and upload your music (or contact us if you'd like us to upload your music for you). Note that YDR is strictly promotion and will not interfere with any prior sales/licensing agreements. See the clickable icon below for an example of the viral sharing YDR offers (all albums are portable, and can be dropped into emails, blogs, facebook, etc). We hope you enjoy the site, and please do ping us with any questions.
Chris O’Connell (chris@ydrecord.com) and Julian Kelly ( julian@ydrecord.com)
Editor's note: Be aware that if you click on the album below (and you'll be glad you did), you'll need to a) allow the player to pop-up and b) have headphones in beforehand if you're at Beutsche Dank or some other stuffy office.
"Do as I say, not as I do": The Dartmouth/FBI Version
I ate dinner at new Murphy’s last night (polished casual), which stopped impersonating Molly’s a couple years ago and instead aims to reproduce the Canoe Club experience. It looks and feels 100% different than the first time I dined in the restaurant, 14 years ago amid a suddenly sunny-and-snowless ski vacation. The remnants of the old décor, leftovers from its dingier and more bar-like days, such as random books lining the shelves and the large and piercing painting of three men in a pub, look and feel different. New tableclothes, bigger flatscreens, more light and less dark and an ambitious menu urges tapas. Maybe it was better when I was in the College, like Sars tells me it was. My date had never been to Murphy's and she thought it was swell. I agreed but wondered if we'd lost the old one, where we used to play trivia on weeknights or bring our parents when they visited.
So I was in a somewhat nostalgic frame of mind when this story was brought to my attention and caused me again to question my own memories. My former Government prof, who I personally was quite fond of, faces up to 40 years in prison for essentially, lying to the FBI about campaign activities during his unsuccessful 2004 U.S. congressional campaign, i.e. for events that began BEFORE he started to teach at Dartmouth.
Jeff Smith lectured in Hanover in 2005, while still under federal criminal investigation (the investigation was subsequently closed and then reopened in January 2009). Leaving Dartmouth after just two trimesters in June (along with the rest of the '05s [hi skins!]), Smith returned to St. Louis to teach. He was elected to the Missouri State Senate in 2006 and was described as a "rising star" in the state and beyond. He was still serving in the State Senate as of three weeks ago and appeared respected by his colleagues on both sides of the aisle. He has since resigned, confessed his crimes, and awaits sentencing in November.
I liked Professor Smith, although I haven't spoken with him since he headed west. But he taught me “Campaigns & Elections” (which I loved), and now I wonder whether the whole thing was distorted through an unseemly lens. I don't think he colored his teaching to confuse the class about campaign ethics; Smith's ethical and legal slip may have been an isolated moment that he merely compounded by repeatedly denying it. But Smith's former campaign treasurer, currently 29-years-old and facing serious federal charges for his role in the 2004 affair and subsequent coverup, insinuates that Smith heartlessly misled him: "I would like to offer a very clear warning to young people in politics. . . . Don't ever let a politician convince you that some campaign rules are made to be broken." Smith himself describes his conduct succinctly on his website:
"During my 2004 Congressional race, I became aware of an independent effort to produce two mailers to benefit my campaign. Federal campaign finance law prohibits specific coordination between a campaign and anyone preparing an independent expenditure.
When the independent operator requested funding, I authorized a close friend to raise money for the effort, and my press secretary provided public information about my opponent’s voting record. I withheld my knowledge of these facts during the Federal Election Commission’s 2004 investigation, misleading investigators and filing a false affidavit."
I'd like to remember him as one of my favorite and more inspiring Professors, but I don't know if I will anymore.All My Plaids Are Madras
When I began my career in the fashion industry three whole weeks ago, only if pressed would I admit my Ivy League credentials, fearing that in this case at least, a brand name diploma was trés démodé. Little did I realize that — once again — I was merely ahead of the trend.
Swap out your skinny jeans for some Nantucket red critter pants: "Ivy League" has officially unseated "preppy" from its wicker throne (and yes, in the fashion world these phrases refer to completely different styles). The cognoscente have discussed the growing movement all summer, variously ascribing it to recession-induced nostalgia or the power of Mad Men and Gossip Girl stylists. Evidence piles up: L.L. Bean plans one of those "new! classics! with! a! [hyperventilate] twist!" lines, designed by a dude who made his mark interpreting Mystic Seaport through screen-print. Some delusional designer dreamed up his own prep school just so it could have a uniform; his "Caulfield Prep" was deemed phony if well-cut. And then there's always this douchebaggery.
Rumblings crescendo'd to a climax this month when that most ivy-covered of Ivies announced it was extending its brand name beyond the academic world and into the sartorial.
Haaaaahvaaaaaaaahd shall launch a clothing line. If possible, please contain your excitement.
“Harvard Yard” sprung from a 10-year licensing deal the university made with Wearwolf Group, a clothing manufacturer whose name makes this all sound like a euphemism for “selling our souls to the devil so we can fund our (potentially unsustainable) financial aid.” And much like admissions to Harvard itself, the first collections will be strictly menswear, with styles for women and select minorities to eventually follow.
These pictures fail to do the details justice: the crucial “Harvard Yard” label inside the collars, the crimson threading on the buttonholes. It is assumed that the wearer will already have fine leather accessories and a misguided sense of entitlement. And all of it could be yours for between $165 and $496 — mere pennies compared to actual enrollment at Harvard, and without all that silly work!
Yves Saint Laurent famously said, “Fashion fades; style is eternal.” Go Wikipedia “Harvard Style,” and you get a citation system and a sex act. I rest my case.
I realize there may be some Crimson sympathizers out there who would challenge another Ivy to do better. Fair enough. Let’s go down the list:
We don’t like to brag, but the masses have been trying to buy into our mystique for decades:
Okay, you might say, so your college inspired the movie that would come to provide a template for cinematic comedy for the rest of the century, so what? Show me some real Dartmouth flair style.
Fair enough.
Harvard Yard's creative director told Women’s Wear Daily (sub. req'd; this is some serious shit) that his designers drew from "photos of students lounging in Harvard Yard in the sixties." I'm going to assume he’s referring to Take Ivy, a 1960s monograph from Japanese photographer Teruyoshi Hyashida. He spent 1965 traveling up and down the East Coast, snapping away on Ivy campuses in order to capture that certain je ne sais quoi the Ivy League style has (and apparently the Japanese really, really want). Currently out of print, copies of the book can fetch as much as $1,500 on eBay.
HY may have drawn inspiration for Harvard’s line from the book, but Hanover’s campus is its dominant trendsetter:
I myself chalk this up to the sheer force exerted by our combination of kickass, frattiness and rugged (veering into crunchy?) good looks. Oh, and that the womynz hadn’t yet infiltrated this great bastion of white manly privilege. After all, this was many years ago:
HOLY CARD CATALOGS, BATMAN!
Forgetting the Stone Age technology, was it really all that different back then? Could there still a place for Ivy fashion — the 2/3 sacque suits and knit ties of bygone years? Can't we say "Goodbye, Jon Hamm," and openly, tightly and passionately embrace Don Draper? I mean, Dartmouth hasn't changed all that much if you really think about it.
Sweet dudes predominate both then and now. Clearly.
And Dartmouth was totally progressive. Like, girls were allowed on campus even if they were the gender too weak to matriculate:
As long as they were Playboy Bunnies.
On-campus food posed dangers then, as now; one can always find comfort in the grill line.
There always has been, and always will be, This Guy.
The Green is still the primary spot to pick up some face time (now with fewer varsity jackets).
And, obviously, ankle bones never actually go out of style.
There's no real reason not to hoist up your khakis and wear that Ivy-educated heart on your sleeve.
Okay sure, the shorts were a little tighter:
So maybe people smoked more.
And Zete hadn't been de-recognized for that whole date rape newsletter thing yet. 'Twas a simpler time:
Oh, and this. This might've changed:
Details. Mere details.
Solid rule of thumb: If you wouldn't stick it on the rear window of your car, don't wear it on your shirt.
For further reading, definitely check out A Continuous Lean. It's among the many menswear*-focused blogs out there, and where I got the scans from Take Ivy (rather than, say, shelling out two grand for a book). This post was also brought to you by the letters A and my muse of choice this evening, Blue Moon. If I wanted to go for topical authenticity, I would have gone with Keystone, but instead I went for good taste. As usual.
*I've recently become fascinated by the world of menswear, a magical land where sizes actually correspond to measurements instead of self-esteem issues. It just blows my delicate feminine mind.
Swap out your skinny jeans for some Nantucket red critter pants: "Ivy League" has officially unseated "preppy" from its wicker throne (and yes, in the fashion world these phrases refer to completely different styles). The cognoscente have discussed the growing movement all summer, variously ascribing it to recession-induced nostalgia or the power of Mad Men and Gossip Girl stylists. Evidence piles up: L.L. Bean plans one of those "new! classics! with! a! [hyperventilate] twist!" lines, designed by a dude who made his mark interpreting Mystic Seaport through screen-print. Some delusional designer dreamed up his own prep school just so it could have a uniform; his "Caulfield Prep" was deemed phony if well-cut. And then there's always this douchebaggery.Rumblings crescendo'd to a climax this month when that most ivy-covered of Ivies announced it was extending its brand name beyond the academic world and into the sartorial.
Haaaaahvaaaaaaaahd shall launch a clothing line. If possible, please contain your excitement.
“Harvard Yard” sprung from a 10-year licensing deal the university made with Wearwolf Group, a clothing manufacturer whose name makes this all sound like a euphemism for “selling our souls to the devil so we can fund our (potentially unsustainable) financial aid.” And much like admissions to Harvard itself, the first collections will be strictly menswear, with styles for women and select minorities to eventually follow.
These pictures fail to do the details justice: the crucial “Harvard Yard” label inside the collars, the crimson threading on the buttonholes. It is assumed that the wearer will already have fine leather accessories and a misguided sense of entitlement. And all of it could be yours for between $165 and $496 — mere pennies compared to actual enrollment at Harvard, and without all that silly work!Yves Saint Laurent famously said, “Fashion fades; style is eternal.” Go Wikipedia “Harvard Style,” and you get a citation system and a sex act. I rest my case.
I realize there may be some Crimson sympathizers out there who would challenge another Ivy to do better. Fair enough. Let’s go down the list:
- Brown: Although not really an Ivy, sells organic fair-trade hemp t-shirts left blank for free expression without fear of failure.
- Columbia: Takes over local stores to the dismay of the West Harlem community, and gentrifies them into an American Apparel stocked only with black v-necks, leggings and ennui.
- Cornell: Releases the next “Ivy line” in a desperate bid to emulate Harvard and seem “with it.” Barely musters Canal-Street quality but looks fine next to Miley Cyrrus’ shit at Wal-Mart.
- Penn: Wharton vetoes on grounds that ROI wouldn’t be worth dilution of the university’s name.
- Princeton: Briefly ponders swallowing pride long enough to release a limited-edition tie with J. Press, but only if the economy gets a lot worse.
- Yale: While a clothing line would go along with “that whole Yale thing,” as Patrick Bateman so eloquently put it, insecurity over Eli clothes never beating Harvard’s stymies any initiative.
We don’t like to brag, but the masses have been trying to buy into our mystique for decades:
Okay, you might say, so your college inspired the movie that would come to provide a template for cinematic comedy for the rest of the century, so what? Show me some real Dartmouth 
Fair enough.
Harvard Yard's creative director told Women’s Wear Daily (sub. req'd; this is some serious shit) that his designers drew from "photos of students lounging in Harvard Yard in the sixties." I'm going to assume he’s referring to Take Ivy, a 1960s monograph from Japanese photographer Teruyoshi Hyashida. He spent 1965 traveling up and down the East Coast, snapping away on Ivy campuses in order to capture that certain je ne sais quoi the Ivy League style has (and apparently the Japanese really, really want). Currently out of print, copies of the book can fetch as much as $1,500 on eBay.
HY may have drawn inspiration for Harvard’s line from the book, but Hanover’s campus is its dominant trendsetter:
I myself chalk this up to the sheer force exerted by our combination of kickass, frattiness and rugged (veering into crunchy?) good looks. Oh, and that the womynz hadn’t yet infiltrated this great bastion of white manly privilege. After all, this was many years ago:
HOLY CARD CATALOGS, BATMAN!Forgetting the Stone Age technology, was it really all that different back then? Could there still a place for Ivy fashion — the 2/3 sacque suits and knit ties of bygone years? Can't we say "Goodbye, Jon Hamm," and openly, tightly and passionately embrace Don Draper? I mean, Dartmouth hasn't changed all that much if you really think about it.
Sweet dudes predominate both then and now. Clearly.And Dartmouth was totally progressive. Like, girls were allowed on campus even if they were the gender too weak to matriculate:
As long as they were Playboy Bunnies.
On-campus food posed dangers then, as now; one can always find comfort in the grill line.
There always has been, and always will be, This Guy.
The Green is still the primary spot to pick up some face time (now with fewer varsity jackets).
And, obviously, ankle bones never actually go out of style.There's no real reason not to hoist up your khakis and wear that Ivy-educated heart on your sleeve.
Okay sure, the shorts were a little tighter:
So maybe people smoked more.And Zete hadn't been de-recognized for that whole date rape newsletter thing yet. 'Twas a simpler time:
Oh, and this. This might've changed:
Details. Mere details.Solid rule of thumb: If you wouldn't stick it on the rear window of your car, don't wear it on your shirt.
For further reading, definitely check out A Continuous Lean. It's among the many menswear*-focused blogs out there, and where I got the scans from Take Ivy (rather than, say, shelling out two grand for a book). This post was also brought to you by the letters A and my muse of choice this evening, Blue Moon. If I wanted to go for topical authenticity, I would have gone with Keystone, but instead I went for good taste. As usual.*I've recently become fascinated by the world of menswear, a magical land where sizes actually correspond to measurements instead of self-esteem issues. It just blows my delicate feminine mind.
