We were roommates our first year -- we were spoiled and had a double bathroom in our dorm. We'd sit and study with our feet in the bathtub filled with cold water when it got hot. Both of our mothers went to Barnard too, in the 1930s -- they sat in the annex and played bridge the whole time, which is why my (Rusty's) mother flunked German! We used to spend time in the lounges; our friend Maxine played guitar and we'd sit around and sing along. In the beau parlors, all four feet would have to be on the floor; graduate student assistants would come around to monitor us. What happened in the Paris Hotel, though, were unmentionable activities. You'd sign out for a "friend's apartment" or going to your parents', as cover.
We had hot suppers on Sunday nights: fried PB sandwiches; broccoli with a slice of ham over it. It was standard to invite a date over for Sunday lunch, which was usually fried chicken. The boys had to pay for the meal, and neither one of us had to dress formally. We'd go out to see shows; at the Metropolitan Opera, it was $5 for standing room, and $7 for the Bolshoi. We'd let our commuter friends keep a bag in our room for if they came out with us or needed a place to stay for the night. V&T is still there -- we had V&T when we were students. There was Riker's for ice cream dates; Take Home for pickles and food; and Salter's for used books -- Quandra Prettyman's husband owned it. There was the occasional panty raid, where the boys would break down the green fence painted board on campus. But we felt very safe. Other schools don't have these precautions built in, but Barnard was doing what schools are doing now, 20 years later. I remember lots of high heels getting stuck in the herringbone brick paths in the quad, too. That happened quite often. |
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