Hispanic Worker Alleges Princeton Club Prefers White People

File this piece under “Predictable as Hell”: the NY Daily reports that the Princeton Club of New York has been accused by a fired Hispanic worker of, well, firing her for a white guy. Fifty-one year old payroll manager Jo-Ann Garcia of New York alleges that she was forced out after 29 years of employment, during which she claims she “was never reprimanded for anything and did wonderful work”, because the general manager desired “white, native English speaking personnel and found the Hispanic accent… to be embarrassing.”

We’re a little disappointed that it took Ms. Garcia 29 years to realize that the Princeton Club prefers pale white men. But we’re more disappointed with Princeton. I mean, come on. Country club racism is so passé (didn’t they hear that sexual harassment is the new big thing in this city?). And while it might make sense for a Club with such distinguished guests to be a little image conscious, Ms. Garcia was a payroll manager in the back room. That means if the Princeton Club was an Abercrombie, Ms. Garcia would’ve been on the “impact team“. It’s not like the Club’s courtly clientele would’ve been forced to hear her “embarrassing” accent while enjoying a leisurely game on one of the “recently renovated, international-sized” squash courts or dining beneath the ”coffered ceilings” of the Woodrow Wilson room. We send our condolences to Jo-Ann and wish her a successful job hunt. Stay classy, Princeton.

EXCLUSIVE: Kanye’s New Stylist, Life Coach, and BFF is a Yale Sophomore

Meet Cassius Marcellus Cornelius Clay: aristocrat, eccentric, old-money, nouveau-style. It’s hard to miss him at Yale. At a lanky 6’5″, the baby-faced blonde, pocket-watch user, and cravat-wearer cuts an imposing figure. He’s also more ironic than a truckload of Tumblrs. The man dresses like some unholy hipster hybrid of Scott Schuman, a 19th-century robber-baron, and the Shah of Iran. Since Day-One of freshmen year, the bespectacled social-butterfly has been Modern Love-ing and DKE-ing, praising royalism with the fusty Tory Party, and lauding Lady Gaga and libraries in the YDN.

But that’s not all there is to the inimitable fashionisto. As it happens, Cassius’ blood is bluer than even his pretty eyes. In fact, he’s the heir of the Clay dynasty, New England’s foremost titans of business and government. Cassius is related to Henry Clay himself, and takes his name from another old-Yalie ancestor, famed abolitionist Cassius Marcellus Clay. But despite the Yale debauchery, Cassius is no layabout. The kid earned top honors at prep-central, Phillips Academy Andover, where he was an international-level debater. In short, it’s an open question whether or not Cassius’ eccentric fashion and demeanor (not to mention his talents) satirize his dynastic roots or exemplify them.

But enough about hipster-ocrats; where does the Taylor-Swift dissing, gold-digging, strange-sunglasses-wearing hip-hopper K-West enter the picture? The tale — now verified by multiple sources close to the unlikely duo — is one of those rare gifts we gossip-mongers get: a story too unbelievable not to be true. Read on!

Rewind to earlier this summer. Cassius is doing what the does best: dropping tin at expensive, trendy designer stores. The lucky retailer of the day is Barney’s, New York. Today, his outfit is impeccable, topped off with high-end Italian designer shoes. In the midst of shopping, a man approaches Cassius, taps him on the shoulder, and tells him that he really, really loves the footwear. Cassius looks up; it’s Kanye West. Cassius keeps it cool, thanks him, and introduces himself. The stars align; history is made. (This moment will almost certainly be reenacted dramatically on Behind The Music.)

The two get to talking as they shop. Kanye loves Cassius’ style, his attitude, his patrician hipsterdom. They talk for over half an hour. Kanye begins to reveal a little more about himself: his reinvention in the wake of the Taylor Swift disaster, and his thoughts on life, art, philosophy, hos (maybe), etc. Cassius advises the rapper on his day’s purchases. Eventually the two leave the store, shopping bags in tow, and exchange phone-numbers and emails. Kanye promises to keep in touch. And oh, does he.

The next day, Cassius receives an email. Kanye has bought a controlling share in the company that designs Cassius’ sexy shoes, and wants to see his ideas for new designs. The Yalie mocks up some images, puts on his Sunday best, and heads to Kanye’s lavish Manhattan office to present seven-plus mockups. Kanye loves them, and the two hit it off even more. In the weeks that follow, Kanye and Cassius exchange emails almost daily, and the young Yalie is invited into the superstar’s inner-circle. There are lavish parties, industry introductions, and a grand tour of Ye’s social life. Cassius ingratiates himself with Kanye’s fashion team, and meets all sorts of high-rollers at Kanye’s shindigs.

All the while, the pair are growing closer. Kanye sees in Cassius a fellow artiste, torn between opposite poles of classy sophistication and earnest expression. Over many an email and phone call, the 20-year-old begins to offer his wise consul on matters beyond fashion — personal and emotional — which Kanye readily accepts. Kanye decides he needs to apologize to Taylor Swift. At this point, the rapper wants to commisserate daily.

Eventually, Kanye comes up with the brilliant idea of tweeting the apology (the pair have been following each other on the site for a month now) and near the end of the summer, comes up with this magnum opus, which rocks the celeb-osphere. Kanye’s fashion choices increasingly come from Cassius’ recommendations; his personal life flows into Cassius’ in streams of emo emails. Finally, at the end of the summer, the “College Dropout” seals the deal: he asks the Yale sophomore to dropout of Yale and become a part of his inner posse, traveling around with him for the rest of the year, helping him through his life’s lowpoint. Kanye West wants Cassius Clay to be an integral part of his resurrection.

And here’s the rub: Cassius has not returned from summer break. His Twitter account, otherwise indecipherably ironic and obscure, has filled with @kanyewest mentions and re-tweets. And earlier today, he tweeted the picture you see above, of Cassius backing up Kanye at NY Fashion week.

And so goes a tale of perhaps the unlikeliest friendship ever to come out of the Ivy League: of a hip 20 year-old Yalie, Henry Clay’s cousin, holding the hand of a tough-guy, multi-platinum rap artist, ready to buy companies and move mountains on his behalf. Throughout history, there have been creative duos that have rocked art: Pollock and Krasner, Capote and Lee, Lennon and McCartney. Now, thanks to one weird, wonderful Yale sophomore and his fabulous shoes, we have another for the ages.

So yeah, Sonny and Cher, I’m really happy for you, and I’mma let you finish, but CASSIUS AND KANYE ARE THE BEST DOUBLE-ACT OF ALL TIME.

After the jump, check out more pictures of the Yalie half of Kany-ius.

Note: When this story was first published, Cassius was not available for comment, and the piece was sourced from friends and contacts. Cassius has since contacted us and the story has been updated to reflect his account. Cassius did not discuss Taylor Swift with Kanye, nor has he met Beyonce and Rihanna. Finally, the original piece misstated Cassius’ familial relation to former Secretary of State Henry Clay.

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“Yaliens” Land in New York, Colonize in Williamsburg

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!

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New York Review of Books Knows Who We Are!

And to think I just spent $6 for this publication this morning! Next up, our NYRB personal?:

The most gossipy blogs take aim at public figures, combining two basic ingredients, scurrility and celebrity, and they deal in short jabs, usually nothing longer than a paragraph. They often appeal to particular constituencies such as Hollywood buffs (Perez Hilton), political junkies (Wonkette), college kids (Ivy Gate), and lawyers (Underneath Their Robes). Politically they may lean to the right (Michelle Malkin) or to the left (Daily Kos). But all of them conform to a formula derived from old-fashioned tabloid journalism: names make news.

Hey, we’re in — generally! — good company — thanks! But next time, NYRB — IvyGate. One word.

Harvard and Yale: Havens for Computer Nerds and Intelligent Black Men

protesterWhy collect baseball cards when you could assemble together the ultimate New York clichés that real New Yorkers wish would get hit by the subway? Simon Rich, Harvard ’07, writer, and former ‘Poon-tangler, has paired up with New Yorker cartoonist Farley Katz to create caricatures, most of which one can avoid by never going to the East Village. Each card includes personal statistics—level of intelligence, cunning, and money—as well as their alma mater (or lack thereof). According to the New York Superheroes blog:

In this glittering metropolis, you can’t cross the street without spotting a costumed crusader…. Every superhero in the New York City universe is represented along with their special powers, origin stories and power ratings. There’s the Out-of-Work Banker, the MFA Student, the Blogger and over a dozen more, all striving for glory in the city that never sleeps.

Notable Ivy League mentions are Harvard and Yale, apparently from which “creative hacks” and “intelligent black men” graduate. It remains unclear whether or not they lose their superhero status once they lose their jobs and start giving eye BJs.

See some superhero collectibles after the jump.

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Dartmouth Grad Creates Summer Camp For Yuppies

outdoor_beer_pongAre you a recent college graduate living in Manhattan? Does the white-collar job you kept at the expense of thousands of others not excite you anymore? Has New York City turned dull after living and working there for nearly three months? Well you don’t have to stay in your comfortable rut anymore!

Dartmouth grad and former Wall Streeter Maia Josebachvili started Urban Escapes NYC, a company that organizes outdoor expeditions–backpacking, rock climbing, fruit picking, and the like–for yuppies bored with New York. Excursions on offer for the gainfully employed range from one-day hikes for $55 to a week in the Yucatan Peninsula for $600. Of course if you opt for the latter, you may not be gainfully employed for much longer once those photos from that nightclub in Playa del Carmen are posted on Flickr.

The high costs of these trips are actually fair deals when you consider transportation, guides, and food. And when compared to other enterprises from Ivy Leaguers, Urban Escapes is a worthwhile venture. However, there is still this air of pretentiousness about Josebachvili’s company. Urban professionals who have already lost interest in New York paying a significant amount of money (whitewater rafting costs about the same as a senior week wine tour) to leave the city and rough it for a day or two. The website also says that on these trips you’ll “meet fantastic and interesting new people in a totally different setting.” Because it’s so hard to meet new people on your own when you’re in a city of 8 million people. You can’t really Facebook friend someone until you share a kayak with them. Read the rest of this entry »