The Walk of Fame: the new Walk of Shame?

Dressing up = extra fame

After a brief muffled conversation (doubtless an exchange of fake phone numbers or, if it was a really heavy night, an exchange of names), my housemate sheepishly pokes her head around the kitchen door. She considers herself lucky if it’s just me in there, my male housemates being much less forgiving in their criticism.

Well, at least she brought her man home to hers. Walking home across campus in last night's clothes represents a much larger probability of being caught. Contrary to all common sense and personal experience, girls continually go out without a coat, and have to strut home in heels and a skimpy dress. You would’ve thought we’d learn.

Having slept over several times in Cell Block C, never twice in the same room, and always seriously underdressed for the final leg of the return journey, I have become something of a celebrity amongst its inhabitants. After several feeble attempts to sneak out, trying to avoid bumping into previous conquests in the maze of corridors, I have decided that shame is not the way forward.

The Walk of Shame is now, at least in my books, the Walk of Fame. Rather than wincing as I recognise half the floor, I proudly make a lap of glory, with a final appearance in the kitchen to celebrate my success amongst the Goodricke boys. I am not saying fame is good, for indeed there are many bad ways to be famous. However, fame is fun. Unintentionally walking home at quarter past the hour, when campus is at its busiest, I giggle as people stare. For indeed, we’ve all done it before, and there is no point ruining the memory of the previous night by getting embarrassed.

Recently I took the Walk of Fame to the next level. Still dressed up as Cat Woman from a sports social, with smudged whiskers and ridiculous hair, I boldly walked into my 9.15 seminar. After making a quick apology to my tutor, I spent an hour at the butt end of every joke my class mates could make about frisky felines. It was worth it - I have obtained heroic status, infamous within my department.

For those who wear fancy dress and still choose to sleep in someone else’s bed, you have my respect. You have truly mastered the Walk of Fame. With regards to my promiscuous housemate, I explained that it is only a Walk of Shame if you make it one. Instead, she should embrace her popularity among men at university and assert her right to have fun, even through controversial means.

Finally, for the rowers who are wearing their lycra suits to this week's Ziggys, do the right thing and sleep at hers. Then you too can master the Walk of Fame.

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