When looking around Martin Court on Friday night, it was easy to pick out the WALT party as the biggest rager on the block: white dudes with floppy hair wearing skinny jeans and hastily– applied eyeliner/marker? spilled out into the yard outside the back of Flowe. The theme, “emo,” was quite well followed by attendees. When speaking to junior April Lorraine, she said, “You know, most people have fishnets of some sort in their standard outfit rotation at this point. You see that chick over there? Yeah, that’s just what she wore to class today.” While moshing to “I’m Just a Kid” by Simple Plan and looking around the room, it was clear that people only knew the refrain lyrics, probably just absorbed through osmosis when the song blew up on TikTok last year (I’m people).
I could go up to anyone and ask, “Hey, do you have a cig?” and the closest thing I got to a no was an offer to hit a mango-flavored juul. Actually, as I write this, I am smelling cigarette smoke. Nicotine is cool again, and immediately any desire I have to smoke has left my body.
I knew I couldn’t be the only one feeling a little dejected at the emo party. WALT, once an incestuous and closed-off group of real weirdos and pariahs, has become… mainstream. In my endless quest for individuality, I know I must now look elsewhere to insert my extremely niche personality.
It pains me to say it, but I will be participating in this year’s frat rush process. I am really hoping to get a bid for Phi Delt–considering it’s mostly football players, they’re utterly disconnected from the majority of party culture on campus and really do their own thing, dictated by the practice schedule. That’s so niche! I’m hoping to get a super hot lacrosse girlfriend to complete the commitment to alternative campus culture. The wardrobe shift won’t be hard–5-inch inseam shorts have actually made it as the universal garment for hot weather male apparel, from the NYC gay club to Alabama country club, so I should be set.