Word: sandrineã
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...seemed funny, the idea of a bunch of college kids having a banquet at a French bistro (Sandrine??s, which very graciously donated 22 four-course dinners to the FM cause. We love them. They’re the best), but no one was appreciating the irony. Everyone seemed to be doing a pretty good job at acting refined, composed and generally ready to enter that larger world out there. As each of FM’s fifteen seniors arrived to our tastefully blocked-off corner of the restaurant, there were air kisses and sophisticated-sounding greetings. Everyone...
David Modigliani said that he was at this dinner because he imposed himself on people, and the Sandrine??s waiter who motioned for him to quiet down would not argue. He offered a poem, “Transactions,” about an elephant trainer who got traded to another circus, and a loud and funny impression of his Italian grandparents...
Whoever the Sandrine??s guitarist was that night, apologies from FM. Douthat’s song and Modigliani’s impression were both louder than all hell. When Sarah Darling stepped up to present, she started by saying, “I don’t have that much to talk about,” so she broke out her viola. The guitarist should have just packed it up and gone home as soon as she drew her bow. The group exhorted her to ask the guitarist to stop, and he wisely complied. Sarah played variations...
...writing this, it has suddenly occurred to me that Cambridge is a perfect microcosm of Harvard. From the Pit to Sandrine??s, Cambridge runs the gamut. One part Abercrombie & Fitch + two parts Jasmine Sola + three quarters Cardullos = well rounded college town. Each store in the square seems to fill a particular quota, and is self-conscious of its role. You, dress the frat boys; you there, feed the yuppies; and you, exist for the sole purpose of peddling to tweed-jacket clad alums come Reunion Week. Ever notice how some stores seem to stick around for no imaginable...