This morning, I sat on a panel for accepted yet potential future students of the University to speak on my experiences. While getting ready, rather than worrying about what to say, my mind focused on what I would wear. We were requested to wear business casual and I grappled with finding an outfit that would make staff happy to present me and make the students realize I am much cooler than this normally and college students don’t dress like this.
Going to high school in a rural farm area in North Carolina meant being surrounded by trucker hats and cowboy boots constantly, neither of which was a fashion choice but more of a utility choice. As a young teen, it was so easy to stand out with simple pieces like sweaters I stole from my grandma and the chunky winged eyeliner I loved so much during that time. Being different felt fun, my silent act of rebellion against the town I was so tired of living in.
While packing to transfer to the University in what many consider the fashion capital of the world, I felt appropriately prepared. As my roommate unpacked her carefully curated stack of band t-shirts and statement jackets, it quickly sunk in that I had underestimated the challenge at hand. As the first weeks and then months of fall semester unfolded, so much time was spent observing the pieces students around me had. Cowboy boots and camo pieces are staples here, even though they weren’t going hunting or to a farm anytime soon. Friends from home were astonished when I came home from break and immediately bought a pair of boots to pack in my suitcase. A simple pair of shoes symbolized such different meanings in the two places I now lived.
The University’s students tend to generally fit into two basic categories: those who stay ready to take an Instagram or digital photo, and those who don’t. There is no superiority between the groups or a silent judgment, rather just a priority difference in most circumstances. For some, being dressed to the nines motivates them to be productive and for others it seems like a chore. There are subcategories of course, and many argue each major has its own aesthetic. English majors often dress in the modern hipster style, with flare pants, patchwork tattoos and a tote bag of a niche interest. Psychology majors seem to live in musician merchandise and often dyed hair or a unique piercing. I think perhaps there are several arguments as to why this is, but maybe it is as simple as people interested in a field often have other similar interests.
As I stand in the dorm elevator, face burning in shame of being caught in my matching workout set after the gym by someone in a carefully curated outfit, I have to remember how little these things matter long term. Even when dressed uniquely to my own style, I never perceive others’ “coolness” around me as less than me because they are not done up in the same way. The world never stops spinning and the way I dress myself cannot be added to the list of things that keep me up at night.
