Whine of the week: Leavers’ hoodies
Hate leavers’ hoodies? Love wine? Read on
Are you sitting comfortably? Yes that’s what I thought. A glass of chilled Chablis in hand, laptop open, you are ready to settle into this potation and pontification.
The location of this week’s whine was Magdalene formal hall. The comfortable green panelled settings and Rowan William’s dulcet tones chimed well with my bottle of Alpha Zeta Corvina 2012, hailing from the hills around Verona.
It is a sweet red, combining the flavours of raspberry and plum, like two star crossed lovers racing over my palate. Hurriedly bought on the way to hall, the wine was a good choice, costing £7.99 from the Cambridge Wine Merchants.
Rating: 3.5 star
Value for money: 7.5
As the candle lit evening progressed and a course of salmon landed in front of me, the topic of conversation drifted to that of leavers’ hoodies.
Words can barely describe how much I detest the drab, ubiquitous, cliché, ugly and left wing garment.
Firstly I hate hoodies. The only time it is acceptable to wear a hoodie is if you are playing sport or you want to be hugged by David Cameron. That is it folks.
You do not wear them because they are “comfy” or because they are “warm”. I’ll tell you what is warm and comfy, a fucking coat or a jumper, or a sweatshirt, or anything that isn’t a pathetic piece of woven cotton that keeps your body and head mildly less naked than it would otherwise be.
Secondly I hate the pseudo personalism of the “leavers’” hoodie. Ok it has the names of all the people who weren’t friends with you on the back. Big fuck. No body gives a shit about them or that you went to St. Fuckwit’s Grammar School in Guilford, like everyone else in Cambridge.
If there is one thing Cambridge is good at, it is producing interesting and non conformist people who are in no ways ubiquitous. We are special. Don’t let this 800 year old institution down by wearing your grotty leavers’ hoody.
When I left school I got a tie and a firm handshake. When you leave Cambridge you get a tube with a piece of paper in it and a firm handshake. Your departure from an institution should be commemorated with solemn gifts that you will appreciate long into adulthood, not a shitty bit of clothing that will be moth eaten and un-wearble in a couple of years’ time.
If you want to preserve the memory of your school days, keep your hoodie in a drawer or frame it, don’t bloody wear it.
Write to your old head of sixth form and ask for a change. Though only after you have finished that ravishing glass of Chablis.