Over the weeks, I witnessed many other strange occurrences. I would hear the speaker blasting music, look outside, and see not a party, but two men at the outdoor tables, adding irresponsible investments to their stock portfolios. Once, I saw a singular man doing squats with a keg on his back while using the speaker.
A number of gates on Harvard’s campus that mark the entrance to University-owned space mysteriously bear the insignias of various Harvard final clubs. But since 1984, when nine all-male clubs officially severed ties with the university, all such social organizations have remained formally disaffiliated from the school.
There's so much material to work with too: The golden scent of John Harvard's glistening shoe, or the flighty smell of a flock of Canada-Goose-jacket-wearing-tourists making their way through the Yard. So, as any diligent student would do, I've taken it upon myself to create my own Harvard-scented candle.
Let's take a moment to remember the fallen, for to be forgotten is to die another death.
I Went to the Grand Opening of &pizza/Milk Bar and All I Got Was the Cold Reminder That Harvard Square is Doomed to the Gentrification That Has Overtaken All Major Cities Across the United States
When Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of the All Saints’ Church in Wittenberg, did he know he would be setting in motion an unstoppable cultural engine that could end only in hypertrends like a self-serious storefront that — let’s be clear — exists to sell pizza and ice cream?