Turns out some sloppy vagrants are trying to ruin the party for everyone when it comes to Manhattan’s Yale Club.
A private Ivy League members only club, the Yale Club’s members are less than pleased with the attire that’s been seen around the club as of late. Page Six states, “members are complaining about a failure in enforcing the dress code, which insists on ‘business casual’ and that ‘neat, respectful appearance is required at all times.'”
One member even wrote a scathing letter detailing the horror:
“A horrifying example of this denouement, this sad decline in the atmosphere and spirit of the club, occurred on September 5 in the men’s locker room. A young man (a Yale law student) was wearing a tee shirt emblazoned in large letters with: ‘F - - k Forever.’ I was shocked and told him that it was offensive and inappropriate; that this was a club for ladies and gentlemen. He smirked. Why was he allowed through the front door? Why did those on duty at the desk at the locker room allow him to enter? Why was he allowed to walk around the club dressed as such? Is there no decency at the club anymore, no class? Will the management be held accountable (and members)?”
I don’t want to sound dramatic, but how dare he?
I’ve got news for these slobs: this is the Yale Club, not a goddamn soup kitchen. If I’m rubbing elbows with such members as George HW Bush and Bill Clinton, you best believe that I’m going to be dressed fresh-to-death on the regular. Bonnaroo was last weekend, so if you want to waltz around wearing your “Fuck Forever” t-shirts, book your Ultra Miami tickets and leave being bougie to the Yale Club members who actually have respect for the sanctity of being a baller.
Call me crazy, but if I were a member at the Yale Club, there’s a zero percent chance that I’d ever look like a commoner. I’d be the guy walking around in Marc Jacobs shirts using my Hermes pocket squares as toilet paper in between snorting lines of caviar and drinking Veuve on the treadmill. I’d be working out in a tuxedo and ostrich horsebit loafers while swimming with fins made of alligator. I don’t need dudes in graphic tees getting in my way when I’m trying to soak in all the amenities.
But hey, that’s just me. .
[via Page Six]
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