It’s a Yalien invasion!

The Observer ran a story yesterday that about “Yaliens,” Yale grads who get into their little space pods and fly over to New York City, where they find refuge from that other “city” they were stuck in for four years.

Then they create a Yalien colony among themselves, like a transplanted Yale campus—as Slate editor and Yale alum Jacob Weisberg said, “I mean, Williamsburg is sort of the Yale campus without the classes, right?”—in which, so it seems, they replay their Yale experience without the classes, right? As his former classmate, journalist Richard Bradley explained:

“New York is Yale’s backyard…It’s something you take for granted—you’re fish, so you swim in the ocean.”

Aliens, fish, whatever Yale alumni are, they come off (in this article) pretty much the way this blog does. (Whether that’s good or bad, it might depend on the day!) They are unfailingly elitist and remain enclosed in their own private universe. As the Observer article reports, “Yaliens keep to themselves when possible” because, a source explained:

“There aren’t as many people here who are smart and interesting…There are a ton who look like they would be, but they’re not.”

But when they do communicate with outsiders—perhaps while taking the bulldog out for a walk—they have a particular charm that seems to be a blend of smarts, ironic humor, and a genuine love of the mothership. They can’t thrive for too long without it!

The article, too, contrasts the Yalien to other Ivy League species. While the Yalien is hardworking and earnest with a rebellious side, the Harvardian is reportedly a ladder-climbing machine of the Type-A variety who has nothing to show for himself but a bad haircut, plaid shorts–and a corner office.

“Their hair is just a little more combed,” as one 27 year-old Yale grad turned Williamsburg resident explained of Harvard rivals.

As for other post-Ivy Leaguers in New York, the Brown grad is simply desperate to be recognized among rest. Columbians (and N.Y.U. students, who also get a mention) are relatively inconsequential to the discussion, ostensibly because they have already become naturalized New Yorkers by the time they graduate.

One Columbia student said of Yaliens:

“They’ll throw around names of places in a way Harvard kids don’t…They’ll say, ‘I’m at Botanica,’ even if they don’t know if you, someone who goes to school here, know what Botanica is, whereas I think Harvard kids would say, ‘I’m at a bar in Soho. It’s called Botanica.’”

Yale produces humble, endearing luminaries who don’t really care whether or not they get their name on the door to the firm. Instead, the article explains, they carry with them to New York that secret society way of doing things that keeps them tight knit, to the point of exclusivity.

But aren’t these the people who went to Yale in the first place? (Not the University of Chicago, not Swarthmore…just as good, right?) Yale degrees and Williamsburg addresses don’t come cheap. They’re the fancy trimmings of high achievement, at least of birth.

Not that they need to explain themselves, as this article seems to suggest, but are Yaliens really such alien creatures? Perhaps the fact that the story’s writer, Leon Neyfakh, graduated from Harvard, gives us all the explanation we need.