BY ADAM DALVA

In print | March 22, 2007

I’ve spent much of my life hoping against hope that just once, for even an instant, I would be taken seriously, and two weeks ago the long-awaited and much-prayed-for event finally occurred. After fleeing various spittings, deleting my e-mail account and immigrating to Asia for a week, I realized that with this new and unexpected development came a new position of responsibility, a role where people would take what I said and really do something with it. With that, and the shockingly convenient revelation that potential employers won’t be able to Google this column after I graduate, here’s one semi-humble columnist’s build-up to Sager.

Ah, Sager. Spring is in the air, flowers are blooming, bees are polli- I have no idea why we’re doing Sager this early. Do you realize that the majority of people on this campus are going to have hairless leg frostbite within 120 hours?

I’m so pro-global-warming right now that I’m writing this column in the flickering glow of a dirty coal fire that I lit on top of a fallen wind turbine. For any other party requiring skimpy clothing, this would be deadlier than a double dose of Trimspa, but because it’s Sager it will be fairly irrelevant. The many signs around campus asking for liquor donations guarantee that there will be a great deal of participation and excitement and a high turnout at the party among the student body and the borough police officers. Get ready to get your name in The Phoenix!

Despite my usual slew of complaints, I do feel that attending Sager is an important rite of passage for a Swarthmorean and a guarantee that at some point in the future you will experience blackmail as you never have before. Obviously the most important factor in your preparations is what to wear within the nebulous category of “Guys wear Dress, Girls wear Less.” Because I’m never going to write about women again and because any advice I could possibly provide is already contained in the last two words of the catchphrase above, let’s stick to the guys this time. Hopefully not on the dance floor.

Heading to our local thrift store to buy a dress is always an exciting experience, particularly when horrified strangers who are not from the area recoil in shock as you tumble out of the dressing room in an ill-fitting yellow slip. Despite this inevitable meeting, I always enjoy the general bemusement of the people in the store, who seem generally to enjoy the phenomenon of 300-400 generally inadequate men descending upon them and asking how to zip up a skirt. There are a couple of things to keep in mind while you are shopping there, though. First of all, it’s a good idea to try to avoid fabric that you think is likely to catch on fire from enough rubbing against other people unless you’re a big fan of the Triangle Shirtwaist factory. Also, try not to be the jackass who buys a wedding dress, someone probably needs it. People who do this are worse than Jet and James Blunt combined

For those of you who aren’t brave enough to risk the thrift store, there is also the always perilous world of clothes-borrowing for you to delve into. Your girl friends will undoubtedly have many skimpy outfits that you have been surreptitiously eying all spring, and now is your chance to get dressed up … but keep in mind that if you do any damage to their clothing you will be in more pain than Jack Bauer in a Chinese prison. I have a friend who broke someone’s heels and he had to come out of the closet before she would even talk to him again. Be cautious.

After your clothes are borrowed, don’t forget to accessorize as well. The most important add-on for any young debutant who is seeking to make the right impression is, without a doubt, bicycle shorts. Your boys are not going to have their usual level of support down there and if your outfit is even remotely successful, boxers will be out of the question.

You don’t want to give people a free show and you certainly don’t want to run the risk of pitching an awkwardly placed tent the instant that Justin Timberlake comes through the speakers. Frankly, at Sager it’s probably a good idea to kill as many sperm ahead of time as possible, so do your best to follow this advice. Also, be sure to consider the perils of wearing heels ahead of time and plan accordingly. While every girl you know will tell you jealously that your legs look incredible in stilettos, keep in mind that you will sink 300 miles into the mud and have leg cramps more crippling than my fear of velvet.

Just remember when you are primping in the mirror on Saturday that Sager is the great sexiling race of the year, so while you might seem chummy with your roommate’s significant other at the beginning of the night, know that you will be trying to devastate their hopes for the night within three hours.

Enjoy the costumes, the long lines, the music in the WRC and the inevitable realization that you’ve inadvertently exposed yourself.

It’s tougher to flee across the world in disgrace when you only have a weekend to do it.

Adam is a junior. You can reach him at adalva1@swarthmore.edu.

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