Emma Watson looked out of the window of Pembroke Hall onto the intersection of Angell and Prospect and watched the line of vintage jean-jacketed 20-year-olds blowing on their Americanos and clutching copies of To the Lighthouse and Of Grammatology.
So begins the most pithy, delightful, and mother-fucking complete take-down of the Brown mythos that this humble writer has ever had the pleasure of reading.
Ostensibly inspired by Emma Watson’s whole “boys are afraid of me” shtick from earlier this week, author Sarah Miller launches into a spectacular hypothetical that plays through Watson’s first couple of days in Providence, back in 2009. As the willowy actress attempts to navigate the post-hygenic hellscape that is Brown, she encounters an entire society of bohemo-fascistic trust-fund babies too distracted with incorrectly interpreting Heidegger to even notice, much less appreciate, her presence. From that point, we’re quickly able to identify the root of all Ms. Watson’s problems.
It’s not so much that the boys at Brown were afraid of her, Miller suggests, as it was that they’d never actually heard of her, because they only watch movies that comply with Dogme 95. (“Von Trier is such a fucking corporatist sell-out,” you imagine one saying, as he drags on a clove.)
And, as for the girls:
Three other girls from their hall, Pasha, Sasha, and Lhasa Apsa, passed by, also pushing their hair around. One of them had giant goggle-like glasses. For a second Emma wondered if she had them on the back of her head, but then she emerged from her curtain of hair, and blinked at her. The air was so thick with the smell of Kerastase she was starting to hallucinate. “Anyway, you were talking about semiotics.”
“Shh…” Masha’s 16-carat Colombian emerald, which her great-grandmother had carried out of Bratislava in her asshole, twinkled on her pointer finger as she held it to her lips. “I don’t want to be thought of as just like, one of those rich chicks who comes here to study semiotics.”
“I don’t think I even know what semiotics is,” Emma admitted.
“It’s, like, really fascinating?” Masha said. “It’s, like, studying meaning.”
Anyway, all this is kind of besides the point. Real-world Emma is running back across the pond to study “English” at some school called “Oxford.” She’ll be enrolled in the university’s Worscester College, which we imagine is most famous for its flavorful sauce. So there ya go. Godspeed, Hermione.
You can read the entire story, in all its brilliance.
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