Classic clothes, fresh faces

On the eve of the last first day of our early academic careers we drank to the death of school days. Dressed dapper like Mr. Draper we caught up on a summer spent apart and swapped schedules to see who would be available for pre-class coffee runs.

The news was mostly good: flights back from world travels landed safely, 40 hour work-weeks provided bank balances reminiscent of pre-OSAP days, and internships are securely in place for fall.

Still convinced entering an empty job market is reason enough to celebrate, we brought out dessert and said to the naysayers: let them eat cake. And at the last minute I stuck a special sparkler into the icing in the shape of an eight.

Eight months to go, eight months to go.

Welcome back, Ryerson.

Making Mr. Draper proud

Black, white, and read all-over?

Cardiganed, pearled, and pencil-skirted to perfection