I'm back at school this year after a looooong hiatus, and feeling "Back To School" Rodney Dangerfield old. Of the many things which make me want to wave my cane around--most of which being covered in this thread, just add in the oversized glasses, cowichan sweaters, acid-wash jeans, and american apparel v-neck tees with the hair tuft--the mason jars are the ones that just kill me.
My annoyance started a few years ago when my wife suggested that we go to a Hayden concert on Valentine's Day. The juxtaposition was too good to refuse, and it happened to be in my favourite local venue/church hall.
The acoustics in the room are so good that I was actually enjoying Hayden's moaning and groaning. That is, until the arts student sat in the pew in from of me and removed that dumb jar of goopy vegetable juice from her courier bag, that she smuggled into the show. It wasn't enough to stink up the joint with her particular choice of contraband, or that her choice was so bizarre, but she had to slowly slurp the stuff for the entirety of the show and make a show of it.
For me, now it's like the phenomenon of when you're thinking of buying a certain type of car and you start to see it everywhere on the road: I notice those mason jars everywhere on campus, and the pretension bugs me. Especially for those old enough to know better.