The concert is not a reprieve from a hectic day in the city—rather, it is a more extreme version of New York consolidated into a tiny room: crowded, loud, and smelly.
This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Maison Française, which is located in Buell Hall—the sole surviving building from the Morningside campus’s days as the Bloomingdale Insane Asylum. The Maison Française has hosted household names such as Jean-Paul Sartre and Édith Piaf.
When I was younger, I had several voices: the heavy and assertive voice for home, the lithe and overly polite voice for school, the quiet and unassuming voice for adults, the high and lilting voice for friends, the reticent near-whisper for acquaintances, and the severe voice in the back of my h
A pale, acne-riddled, 16-year-old boy flips furiously through the worn pages of his favorite vintage copy of Superman.
Here’s an astounding fact: From the mid-1930s to the mid-1950s, 30 percent of all feature films made in the United States were Westerns. On second thought, perhaps that’s not so astounding. After all, what’s more American than John Wayne’s slow swagger and charming drawl?
Once upon a time, students who followed the yellow brick road to law school were guaranteed bright futures: jobs at private downtown firms, paychecks that made a dream apartment in New York a reality, and a prestigious place in society.
A week before we graduated from high school, my best friends and I piled into two pickup trucks and headed down I-65 to Gulf Shores, Ala. Six hours and a few pit stops later, we arrived at the Hangout Music Fest, a three-day event on the beach boasting over 80 bands.
“American Horror Story” is a fantastic name for a show. Unfortunately, it’s no longer an accurate description of American Horror Story.