Anonymous
I have, unfortunately for me, tried almost all of the dating apps. This is great news for you readers, though —- now you don’t have to suffer through all the hell and horror (at least not without my warnings)!
Hinge:
It is really important to know that everyone is on here. I mean EVERYONE. If you set up a Hinge profile, expect to walk onto campus and see at least three people whose profiles you scrolled through the night before. Honestly, this app is great if you are planning on getting ghosted. I’m kidding (kind of) —- I’ve been on my fair share of Hinge dates. Some were great, and some were basically an hour and a half of mental torture. You will occasionally hear a love story come out of this app. It’s a trick! Don’t believe them!
That said, if you want an app that will give the highest chance of a date, maybe even a few, this is the one I’d recommend.
Bumble:
This is a terrible, horrible app. This place is full of the deadest chat you will ever find. I used to get some comically awful messages from men on this app. I entertained a lot of friends with screenshots. Perhaps most tragic was when I matched with one man with whom I was initially having a great conversation. Then he sent a screenshot of a very strange and very racist sexual fantasy he had. Unprovoked. I replied with, “‘what the fuck is that?”’ and he said, “‘oops, that’s not what I meant”’. I swiftly blocked him.
I went on a singular first date from Bumble. It was great! He travelled to London to see me. The following weekend, we made plans to come to mine and watch a movie. He was there for a good few hours and made not one move. Not one. We did not meet up again.
This is perhaps the worst of the apps.
Breeze:
The concept of this app is incredible. You match and immediately set up a date —- and the app does all the hard work of setting it up for you. You input your availability, and it picks a location for you! There is no chat function —- so no ghosting! However, I am biased. I went on one Breeze date. It was, to put it politely, fucking awful. It was in the summer, and he was dressed for winter, in boots and a thick woollen jumper. The conversation was immensely boring to begin with. He then went to the bathroom, came back and began talking with so much more energy —- too much energy… Drugs? Yes! Definitely! We left the bar the app had picked for us, and in the lift down, he kissed me —- I did not want to kiss him. I had made it very clear that the date was not going well for him. I left quickly after. We did not exchange contact details after.
Do with that what you will.
Feeld:
This app is FREAKY. In every sense. Expect to be messaged or liked by people much older than you, asking you to be their sugar baby. I’m talking 60-year-olds. Also, expect a LOT of dick pics. If you are looking for sex and kink, this is the app for you. Personally, that is not my thing. I had a very funny week or two with this app, though.
I haven’t tried Tinder, and in all honesty, I’m not actually convinced anyone in our generation uses it anymore. I have friends who use Raya —- I cannot be persuaded to spend money on a dating app through which I will inevitably only find more insufferable men, albeit richer ones.
I think the TLDR of this article is that all the apps suck, and the best luck I’ve had is in meeting IRL. utfit] makes you feel is more important than how it makes you look.”
Speaking with Shahriyar Ardabili, the show’s media director, he describes their media campaign to bring awareness to the intricacies of fashion as a language and art form, “whether it be [through] advertising via LinkedIn, or parading our most experimental looks around campus”. He hopes this ethos of moving the needle on self-expression reaches those that may not be the ‘typical target audience’ for high-fashion.
When the Show Ends
The team hopes the event will spark conversations that linger surrounding creativity at LSE and the pressure to conform. “Having spoken to some people working on the show and around campus, I noticed this tendency to ignore our hearts and pursue the ‘smarter’ choice,” says Annie. Bryon also encourages students to more consciously consider how one might use their positions within powerful institutions. “I hope people can think about their journeys and whether it’s been meaningful. I want people to ask if they like the version of themselves they’ve become since coming to LSE. I used to have mixed feelings but [not anymore]!” The aim is not consensus, but reflection.
More broadly, the event connects its themes of injustice and expression to tangible forms of support and advocacy. This can be seen through its partnership with The Baytree Centre, a Lambeth-based charity supporting women and girls from marginalised backgrounds, and SANE, a national charity providing free guidance and support to those struggling with mental health. RAG’s third charity partner is Safe Passage International, an organisation that reunites displaced children with their families through expert legal advice and arrival support.
While the performance itself is but a fleeting moment, Laura and Carolina emphasise that raising money for these organisations through ticket, merch, and magazine sales ensures “it extends the impact of the show beyond just one night.”As the lights go down, the question posed at the beginning remains deliberately unresolved. If fashion can function as critique rather than commodity, then what responsibility comes with that? And what might change if students felt less compelled to dress — or live — for someone else’s idea of success?
