[schooled] 
Legacies, virtuosos, geniuses, people who blurt their SAT scores when they get drunk ... Harvard students take many forms--most of whom will let you know they're at Harvard with varying degrees of arrogance and guilt.
SHOP HERE
[schooled] 
Your acne scabs are nothing compared the emotional scars left from four years of being called "Dorkus Malorkus Supremus" in the halls of whatever hellhole high school you've escaped from. Now, Boston is your high school, the MIT campus is your science club, and you're certainly still a dork--but at least your mom won't yell at you for staying up all night watching Firefly.
SHOP HERE
[schooled] 
You're an asshole from North Jersey or Long Island or whatever. Nobody cares. And sorry about not getting into BC. But don't worry-nobody else here did, either.
EAT THIS
[schooled] 
You think about your future a lot. You've known since day one that you wanted to be an engineer, a doctor, a lawyer or some dick who flips cars over every time the Pats win. You want to experience the world; meanwhile, the world might need some time before experiencing you.
SHOP HERE
[schooled] 
While you've likely spared your parents the burden of out-of-state tuition, you still broke their hearts by going to art school. It's cool. They get to look forward to years of explaining your major (fibers?) to their friends and supporting your impoverished ass come graduation. You have to suffer for your art, so why shouldn't they? (You'll notice that a lot of our recommendations send you out to Jamaica Plain, but let's face it-you're a lot happier living on the fringes of society anyway.)
SHOP HERE
[schooled] 
You're a misogynistic little puke now, but soon you'll find yourself surrounded by like-minded singer-songwriters who were equally unpopular in high school. So squeeze into those little black jeans and lace up your low-top All-Stars, because it's going to be a confusing culture fuck for the next however long you last in Berklee's gauntlet.
SHOP HERE
[schooled] 
You are a communicator, an artist, a poet, a filmmaker, a marketeer, an actor, a free spirit with your eyes on the prize. And now, you're an Emersonian--which means that soon, you will drive everyone on earth up the fucking wall with your bullshit. Your salutatorian speech at high school commencement was an interpretive dance. Your band printed T-shirts before you wrote any songs. Every moment of your life is a MySpace profile pic waiting to happen. The world is your proverbial browser.
SHOP HERE
del.ico.us
reddit!
