Needlessly sweating over sororities

"What do I wear?!!!!" is the familiar refrain among college girls across country, in fact, among women in general. The use of this phrase, though, reaches record highs during sorority rush. Freshmen, especially, fall victim to this rhetoric by spending hours over vacation buying and choosing their attire for each round--hitting Banana Republic, J. Crew, Guess and sometimes Gucci so they can make the right appearance during their 20-minute visits with each sorority. They have spent their whole freshman fall figuring out the social scene, asking any older girl whether she is greek, which organization she is in and with which fraternities she mixes. In the library, at section parties and on the bus, she smiles meekly at her would-be sorority sisters, trying to make a good impression and project the right look. The final countdown is finally here.

"Do you know which one you want to be in?" echoes through the Marketplace. "How do you know if they want you?" echoes the reply. They envision the process: all standing outside commons rooms like cattle, herded into alphabetical order single file, answering to the doorgirl doubling as a drill sergeant with the right response, the right outfit and the right nametag. Now, the nametag is what they lose the most sleep over. Their rho chi's have told them to make an individual, interesting and exciting name tag and to start thinking about it before break. I remember when I went through rush, my rho chi told me she had cut out cows from magazines, because she lived on a farm, written poetry around her name in a border because she liked to write poetry, and she had spelled out each letter of her name in magazine-clipped letters in her favorite color. "It took like three days," she told me. Other girls in line had furry stickers all over their tags because they loved dogs, and one girl even had a picture of a huge Ben and Jerry's ice cream because she liked dessert. Still another had a sort of pop-up-themed, leopard, zebra, jungle-patterned diorama hanging off her sweater. So each girl worries exactly how much or how little effort to put in, which hobbies to focus on and which look the best in craft form. Hey, if you don't get a bid, at least you get to practice your artistic skills.

The next worry is the conversation: Is it an interview? A casual chat? A status evaluation? Do I sit there and wait until they ask me questions, or do I tell funny stories, or do I ask them questions? The standard protocol when a girl enters a rush round is that a sorority member first asks how much the rushee weighs. Then she goes on to inspect each individual piece of clothing, noting labels where necessary. After her conversation, the sorority girl rates Hermes labels as a 10, Bergdorf Goodman as a 9, Emmanuel Ungaro as an 8, Armani as a 7, Guess as a 6 and so on down the chain. Anyone without these labels is promptly dismissed, except Target is okay as long as it is pronounced, "Tar-jay." The sorority girl may ask which fraternities they hang out with and they must be the "Right ones," and the rushee is expected to have hooked up with the best boys of the bunch.

Spare me. These and other preconceived notions are why you have girls at Trinity Cafe saying, "What if I don't get in? I'll have to transfer or something if I don't make one of the top four!" Give me a break. Just think about the last few nights since the semester started. Everyone, regardless of her sorority affiliation, was trying to get into Rum Runners, Mugshots and Charlie's. It doesn't matter! Section parties are pretty much dying, unless they have a theme that everyone remembers, and on-campus mixers are basically dead. Social life exists mainly on Ninth Street and in the Brightleaf area, and sororities and fraternities have spent so much money renting the places out, that they'd be happy for non-affiliates to pay cover and come in. Rush is merely everyday life organized into rounds and rotations. A friend recently told me that everyone is a salesperson and everyone has to sell him or herself every day. We judge everyone we meet anyway, so why not do it in an organized fashion and meet people in the process? Granted, I hated going through rush and hated being on the other end of it even more. Ironically, it's the freshmen who are in a tizzy, the ones for whom each event is carefully planned and organized, when all they have to do is show up and talk. Other than the first day, rush is nothing to worry about. It's no different than starting a new job, going to a bar or traveling to a new place--except a little more uncomfortable because of the floors and a little more structured because of the lines and time limits.

I forgot my nametag each time and had to run to the Bryan Center to buy a pack of index cards, tape and a pen and make a new tag each day. I had no time to go through magazines to illuminate my hobbies. Nametags are a fun arts and crafts experience, but they really serve no other purpose, unless you are strapped for conversation starters. So no matter if you rush or do not, or what sorority you end up in, the process is nothing to sweat over. You will end up at George's, Mugshots, Charlie's, James Joyce or the like, either way.

Alexandra Wolfe is a Trinity senior and a senior writer for Recess.