- Responding to Roger Ebert’s reviews
- T/F Film Fest
- About Vox
An activity of entertainment Columbians look forward to after a day of same sh-t, different day.
Everybody loves nightlife. Some people like partying at their friend’s house so they don’t have to clean up, others like spending as little money as possible on alcoholic beverages so they can convince themselves they actually like a scene. Some spend at least an hour transforming their body into a cuddle-buddy magnet, others spend the next morning trying to figure out how they acquire their UDIs.
Tube Tops at concerts
Tube tops are cute, but not so suitable for concerts.
You’re looking fine with those exfoliated shoulders. A healthy glow is a sign of fertility. You’re also dancing really hard to some mainstream band/DJ/singer with one hand up and worshipping the music, and the other hand down holding on to your alcoholic beverage and concealing the giant X on the back of your palm.
In the midst of the darkness, laser beams, sweaty pits and sing-a-long, someone taps you on your shoulder and says “I think your bra is showing from the front.”
Horrified, angry and embarrassed, you yank your tube top that has obviously slid down your chest. You look around the crowd to see who else has seen your flesh colored bra for the past who-knows-how-long your girls have been out and about. Long story short: tube top at concerts? Not a good idea.
Are you climbing a mountain? Are you an overbearing midwestern father? Are you a drug dealer?
If your answer is “NO” to all three questions, then why are you wearing cargo pants out to a bar/club? I’m sure you only need one pocket for your giant Android phone and another for your wallet. Handkerchiefs, swiss army knife, Altoids and condoms do not need their own pockets. You don’t need 8 pockets.
No tights, no pants, no jacket, no insulation during the winter months.
I can never wrap my head around how women are capable of keeping warm by hobbling down Broadway in their heels without a jacket and with a mini bodycon dress when it’s 40 degrees outside. I don’t know which keeps my body warmer: wearing a coat with pants/tights or squeezing my borderline hypothermic fingers in between my bare armpits.
Half fact: Women look hot in a minidress while they’re out at night.
Full fact: Women look and sound stupid when they wear mini-hooha-dresses without wrapping up for the cold and then complain about how cold it is in a high pitched voice at family-friendly restaurants such as La Siestanchojimadoqueriamaguey. (P/s: No offense, but the people at that restaurant are REALLY nice to their customers)
Are you from Downtown Montclair? Do you worship the year 2000 version of Lil Bow Wow? Are you in a terrible MC Hammer music video? Are you Kanye in 2004? Are you a neutered dog for Halloween? Are you James Dean?
Walking around barefoot after the bars close.
This is not a style no-no; it’s just plain gross.
Dear, heel wearers of Columbia,
This is my plea to you. From a female to another female/heels enthusiast. Please stop this. If you decide to wear your heels out, stick with it until you reach home or to a bed. Take it from etiquette queen of club rules of conduct, Jenna Marbles: If you want to wear heels out, you marry them. Till home do us part.
Unless, in the midst of your drunken stupor you come to a sudden revelation that you’re a hippie. Then you’re most welcome to take off your shoes and prance around the sidewalk of downtown and the bars because hippies don’t care.
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