We see your young tuxedoed and begowned, strolling the square in the evenings, attempting savoire faire but filled with exuberance, excitement, energy, off to exhibit class and breeding, off to become masters of the universe, off to make connections, eat well, dance stiffly, make out using the promise of power as the penultimate aphrodisiac.
The girls often are earnest and awkward, dressed up on their way to social justice; it’s particularly the boys exuding an endearing arrogance, an anticipatory air of position: some day a high-priced lawyer; powerful governor; world-changing entrepreneur.
The strippers of Lynn show us the teen under the trappings — or perhaps preoccupation with the inevitable Congressional confirmation hearings — through the work of Harvard Crimson writer April H.N. Lee.
Bambi stripped at Harvard once. The guys, not far from her age, were quiet, dressed in tuxedoes, their hands clasped on their knees. The whole thing seemed like an initiation, but this was a long time ago; she doesn’t remember where it happened. During the show, they were polite, she says, but apparently unremarkable. Beyond the tuxedoes, she doesn’t remember much about them.
It’s not the standard collegiate approach. At [Boston University], the guys participate, playing along with dollar bills, whipped cream, and the rest. At Harvard, they sat in chairs. It was a little weird, but Bambi didn’t think much of it.