Academia has a historic relationship with fashion, both officially and unofficially. The former manifests itself in Oxford’s sub fusc – mounting costs and pressure of tradition aside, it’s at least somewhat reassuring for us to be equally as pretentious as each other.
Unofficially, however, the class disparities reveal themselves. Sure, going to a college-wide formal dinner in freshers’ week sounds great, but no one warns you about the dress code, the faux-pas you commit through a lack of cultural capital. In the same way, the visual language through which aristocratic fashion is expressed is unintelligible to me. The intricate differences between white and black tie, appropriate horse-riding wear, the luxurious yet mysterious brands embraced by those with money. This wasn’t my world.
Alternative subcultures certainly exist at Oxford – I’ve been seen a fair few times at Intrusion, Oxford’s goth club night. Yet, the dominant discourse around fashion remains steeped in tradition, like most facets of Oxford life. The degree to which certain styles are socially acceptable is in complete contrast to what I’m used to. Back home, casually wearing a suit is more than enough to earn you the title of ‘neek’, and your collection of Nike tracksuits is a status symbol of much higher value. Swap Saltburn for Top Boy, Adidas Sambas for Shoe Zone. Going to university subverted my stylistic sensibilities and demeaned my sense of self-worth – the culture of my family, friends, and peers is actively devalued, labelled ‘chavvy’ before anything else.
These tastes have trickled down to the general student population in Oxford, and even to the teen TikTokers who romanticise the University (just wait until they find out about the weekly essay grind). The intellectualism associated with the ‘dark academia’ aesthetic is watered down and diluted into neatly divided visual categories, even identities – yet in the appearance of academic discipline is all that counts. What matters is if you look like someone who would read, who would study at a prestigious university, who would speak several languages, and so on. Think dark brown colour palettes, pleated suit trousers, too much plaid, satchel bags, heeled loafers, and the cosmetic use of glasses. Although related, this look is distinct from early 2010s ‘preppy’, an ideal of the all-American adolescent, not pretending to harbour intellectual merit. Academia is now an accessory. Yet, even this emulation of the upper and middle classes is a far cry from anything I had encountered back home, where the same style would probably just indicate that you were coming home from sixth form.
The vacation periods at Oxford are very long. Every time I return either to the city or the ever beautiful Croydon, it feels as though I must readjust myself again and again, especially in my fashion choices. Some solace is achieved in carving out your niche – finding your friends, the societies you want to join, the events you want to attend. Yet, systemic problems and social disparities dating back to the foundations of both Oxford and Cambridge seep into the everyday workings of student life.
