One midnight near semester’s end on the skirts of Harvard Yard, music thumped and laughs rang out from a colonnaded, Greek-revival mansion, the sort usually seen in Hollywood fantasies about fraternal campus life. But it was the scene outside that suggested something other than a frat party. This was the headquarters of the Fly, an exclusive men’s fellowship known here as a final club. At its side door stood a silver-haired man in tuxedo, checking names against a list of the lucky invited. Eager young women in micro-minis queued up.

August 2, 2016 ・ From The New York Times