Welcome.

Taylor Grasdalen attended Barnard College’s Annual Gala on Thursday, May 8th. She takes in the reception, a look at that pricey dinner, and the dance party — amongst other things — for you here.

On Thursday night, Barnard College held its Annual Gala at the Plaza Hotel. The evening historically lends itself to garnering some of the school’s most generous donations to its financial aid and scholarship programming, raking in the actual millions; this year’s event culled a cool record-breaking $2.3 million from the crowd, $675,000 of which came from donations during the few minutes that comprised the “auction.” However, the Gala also lends itself to boozy society dining and dance party for an enormously wealthy, vastly white, Connecticut- and Manhattan-hailing crowd. As someone unaccustomed to seeing so much tulle and satin under one roof (not to mention so much cash thrown around), I know that there is an article I might and maybe really should write about the Gala, and there is one that I’d rather write. But in noting the absence of The Spectator — or literally any other press — at the event, sharing my experience here as fully as possible seems best.

Though I arrived obnoxiously earlier than my 6 o’clock call time, the press relations staff were ready to arm me with details on the night’s honorees, Connie Williams ’66 and Dorothy Urman Denburg ‘70 and cater to really anything I might ever possibly want from them. (This is because there was no other media present whatsoever. There was nothing else for them to do. In fact, the women who checked me in at this time were gone before dinner was even in full swing, just a little after 7.) Reading up on these fine ladies before heading into the reception and cocktail hour, they seem like exceptional people. Denburg, as she later shared in a speech sometime around the delivery of what was distantly a very elegant-looking dessert (which was apparently a glorified s’more, I discovered upon stealthy plate inspection after I’d shaken the press relations lady), had served the College in a “love affair of almost five decades.” She had been the First Year Class Dean, Associate Dean of Studies, Dean of the College, the whole scholarly shebang. Williams served as a Barnard Trustee for more than ten years and created several scholarship funds, her work primarily tending to political science, as well having been a one-time Pennsylvania State Representative. In short, both very involved Barnardians.

Not mine, but probably missed by someone. At least there’s an open bar!

The reception, however, was where I got to fraternize with the normies. My hopes to meet some really wealthy couple seeking someone — anyone — to name inheritance to, however, were shattered as most of the people in attendance already had dates, friends, and children. The few people I did meet were either “looking/waiting for someone,” pleasant enough to let me briefly interrupt their conversation, or the daughter of Diana Vagelos, who promised to introduce me to her mother if she ever found her (we never found her). There was also a Long Island sex therapist I met during this time who gave me her business card at the end of the night; we’d had a good chat.

But overwhelmingly, the crowd was fancy like nothing I’d ever seen. Every man over the age of thirty looked like a senator and every man younger had the optimistic face of a Congressional aide. There were many American flag pins. All women looked Barnard-strong, but as well that they might have a closet packed with even more lacy gala-worthy dresses and high heels. In passing, I picked up on youths discussing Hillel and tennis (I wish I were joking), and anyone clearly not a student (though occasionally difficult to tell, damned cosmetics these days) discussing finance-related business. How weird it is, though, to see other first-year students and recognizable faces attending a gala whose tickets start at $125 and only skyrocket from there. I spoke with one other first-year Barnard student and her family about sexual assault policy this year — sorry I did that to you, guys — and eventually elicited that their invitation to the Gala was warranted and accepted out of not just “commitment to involvement in [their daughter’s] school,” but philanthropic interest.

I recognize the importance of the Gala, and the money it pulls for the school’s scholarship. I recognize that half as much cash specifically given for financial aid purposes might not come in were Barnard not to hold such a ball. $2.3 million is a pretty lofty number to a student on aid, after all, and a fair amount to a school with a $244.2 million endowment amidst a University with well over $8 billion. But numbers aside, that I have peers able to afford dinner tickets, their parents ready to throw down a few thousand, is staggering. Had I not noticed the ready wealth on campus when I arrived for orientation this fall (though it’s hard to miss, as many Barbour jackets and Longchamp bags as there are around Columbia), this might have shaken me that much further.

My view of DSpar. C-c-can you see it? –can you see the magic glow?

That honoree Denburg’s or William’s involvement in scholarship fundraising was not better explicated, perhaps, is the problem. At a Gala apparently so focused on the significance of a need-blind admissions process and promise to, in the words of Barnard director of financial aid Nanette DiLauro (with whom my family and I are quite well acquainted, if only via email and phone), educate women “regardless of their financial means,” a scant fraction of the night was spent watching prepared video of current aid recipients talk about just how much the money means to them. I don’t know why this needed to be done, though it was done eloquently. While sidelined during the dinner, I made friends with the handful of other Barnard students not paying for a table. I’d been wondering who those kids, seemingly the most interestingly dressed (disco jumpsuit, gold tapered pants, and floral-embroidered dress, oh my!), holding open doors, ushering, and handing out donation envelopes were — these were Barnard’s graduating Centennial Scholars.

I’d never heard of the program until Thursday, but that’s because it’s been on its way out these last few years, with 2014 being its final class. The program itself, currently directed by Denburg herself, is given brief mention in the last paragraphs of her biography in the Gala’s pamphlet. The quiet is likely due to the program’s nearing end, but the pamphlet too cites the Centennial Scholars Program as one that offers its participants “an opportunity to engage in challenging independent projects tailored to their individual interests,” “with the assistance of mentors.” The Scholars I met at the Gala were in attendance because of Denburg and unrecognized during the night, but each stressed to me how significant the scholarship program has been to their time at Barnard. Several never would have attended without this specific aid, finally, terribly being pulled as the program’s unnamed benefactor will now step down.

The dance floor that we got going. Note: those pictured did NOT start the party.

I am fascinated by the projects these students tell me they’ve been working on for several semesters, funded and assisted by the College. Most of them are Urban Studies or History majors — this seems to be where the most interesting Barnard ladies are — and working on projects as varied as writing a novel, researching the politics of maps, researching Manhattanville and Columbia’s imminent expansion, and interviewing Danes about the function of illegal businesses in Copenhagen. I wanted to discuss these projects all night, but was essentially kicked out by the event wardens (our conversation had moved to the staffers’ lounge so they could have dinner between speeches, too, food which the Scholars were entitled to but I was not). One “consultant” hanging out in the lounge had been sharing Gala state secrets with me, too, and the staff probably did not like that. Interestingly, I did learn, though, that there’s always got to be an old reliable $100k table out there somewhere so no one looks bad. Those $675,000 of spontaneous donations? Not so spontaneous. Who knew!

Class relations aside, however, I am very sad to hear about the death of the Centennial Scholars Program at Barnard College in spite of such massive contributions and freely flowing white wine. Things went okay, though, even as I made eye contact with classmates as I took full advantage of all things free for me — a few of those bacon-abetted hors d’oeurves particularly — at the dance party after dinner. What’s more, is the Centennial Scholars and I (hopefully we’re friends now; they were too cool) were the only ones dancing after dinner. (DSpar did help us really get it started though, to her credit.) It’s probably because none of us were weighed down by that beautiful s’more creation, just plenty of free drinks.