Tuesday 26th May 2026
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Think tank publishes report calling for centralised Oxbridge admissions

Daniela Braw-Smith
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Think tank publishes report calling for centralised Oxbridge admissions

The Higher Education Policy Institute (HEPI) has published a new report advocating for centralised admissions procedures for applications to the University of Oxford and the University of Cambridge, arguing that the current collegiate system increases the opacity and complexity for applicants and their teachers.

Charlotte Armstrong, author of the report, told Cherwell that the collegiate admissions system “can place a significant burden on teachers and advisers trying to support students, and risks discouraging capable applicants who may see the system as confusing or inaccessible”. In the report, Armstrong pointed to several factors complicating the admissions process, such as variation in outreach funding, fragmented outreach provision, and poor institutional coordination.

Alongside its national outreach initiatives, such as UNIQ, the University delegates regional outreach to colleges. The University’s Common Framework for Admissions outlines shared principles and procedures to “ensure a fair, consistent and academically rigorous admissions process across all subjects and colleges.” 

However, HEPI’s report noted the impact of the huge wealth disparity between colleges: In 2024, Christ Church College’s endowment (£758 million) was around 17 times that of St Anne’s College (£44 million). According to the think tank, these differences prevent there being a consistent level of support and connection, with some colleges budgeting up to twelve times more on widening access than others. Armstrong told Cherwell that “this risks creating an uneven landscape where a student’s exposure to Oxbridge – and the guidance and support they receive – can depend on their geography, and which colleges happen to have been allocated to their area.”

In its application guidance, the University describes how “while it may look different from applications to other universities, each part of the process has a clear purpose and guidance to help you understand what to expect.” Applications to Oxford involve an earlier deadline for UCAS personal statements and references, choosing between applying to a specific college or an open application, a potential admissions assessment and/or submission of written work and at least one interview, all before the main January deadline for UCAS has passed. HEPI’s research identified Oxford’s additional application requirements and earlier timelines as another factor limiting students’ and teachers’ ability to navigate the admissions process. 

In response to these barriers to transparent and accessible admissions procedures, HEPI has recommended a multi-stage approach, culminating in full centralisation of Oxford applications. The proposed first step would be to develop a more consistent approach to interviewing to establish a more level playing field for students and teachers. 

Under a fully centralised application model, applicants could be interviewed by academic staff from several colleges before being allocated to a college through a ranked preference method. This system would, as Armstrong told Cherwell, “reduce the risk of strong candidates missing out because of where they applied and make the system clearer, more transparent and fairer from a student’s perspective”.

The gap between funding and belonging at Oxford

Leo Jones
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The gap between funding and belonging at Oxford

Oxford is keen to tell a particular story about itself: that it is open, that it is trying, that it is changing. Without a doubt, this rings true, particularly on a financial level, as exemplified by the generous Crankstart Scholarship and the University’s many hardship funds. And to be clear, they matter. For many students, that money is the difference between being here and not. 

But there is a quieter problem embedded in how this support is structured and discussed – one that reveals a set of assumptions about working-class students that the University has yet to fully confront. At its core, the issue is not the existence of financial support, but the expectations that come attached to it. 

Schemes like Crankstart tend to operate on the premise that financial disadvantage is primarily a matter of shortfall. Give students money, and the problem is essentially solved. This sounds reasonable until you consider what it assumes – namely, that recipients already possess the knowledge, confidence, and cultural fluency to manage that money “correctly” within Oxford’s uniquely opaque financial landscape.

But money at Oxford is not neutral. It comes embedded in systems like battels, college charges, book grants, rent schedules, vacation storage fees, formal wear expectations, unpaid internships, and the subtle but constant pressure to spend in ways that signal belonging. Knowing how to navigate these is not intuitive. It is learned often informally, sometimes through family experience, and long before arriving here.

Working-class students are far less likely to have had that exposure. Yet the structure of support assumes they will simply “figure it out.” This assumption shows up in small, but consequential, ways. Funds are frequently disbursed in lump sums, with little guidance beyond generic budgeting advice. Hardship applications require students to anticipate and articulate financial needs in a system they may not yet understand. There is an implicit expectation that students will know when to save, when to spend, and when to ask for more – all the while managing the social pressures of a university where spending norms are rarely explicit.

This gap is intensified by how difficult it is to earn money while at Oxford. Term-time work is typically discouraged in favour of prioritising academic commitments, leaving many students with little flexibility to respond to unexpected costs or social pressures. The assumption is that financial support will be enough. When it is not, there are few alternatives. The option to simply “work more” – a common fallback elsewhere – is largely closed off, further narrowing the margin for error. 

When things go wrong, the burden quietly shifts back onto the student. Overspent? You should have budgeted better. Didn’t apply in time? You should have known the system. Struggling socially because you can’t afford to participate? That’s unfortunate, but invisible. The underlying message is subtle but powerful: you have been given the opportunity, now it is your responsibility to make it work.

But is it not natural that, upon receiving extra money in your bank account – possibly more than you have ever had before – you would be tempted to spend dramatically? Those Ryanair flights for a European city break? Suddenly affordable. Tesco Finest over their value products? Why not treat yourself? 

Initially, it might seem obvious to respond to this gap with more “support” in the form of budgeting workshops, financial literacy sessions, or compulsory guidance on managing money at Oxford. But this risks reproducing the same problem in a different form.

If framed incorrectly, these initiatives can feel deeply patronising. They rest on the assumption that working-class students lack basic financial competence, and that they need to be taught how to budget, rather than supported in navigating a system that is itself unusually complex. In reality, many students from lower-income backgrounds arrive at Oxford already highly skilled in managing limited resources. The issue is not ignorance, but context.

Budgeting at Oxford is not the same as budgeting at home. It involves decoding unfamiliar charges, anticipating irregular expenses, and negotiating social expectations that are rarely spelt out. A workshop on “how to manage your money” does little to address this, and risks talking down to the very students it claims to support.

What’s needed instead is not remedial education, but structural clarity. Clearer information about likely costs, more transparency from colleges, and a recognition that the difficulty lies not in students’ abilities, but in the University’s complexity, at both a social and institutional level. We all have different relationships with money, which therefore makes blanket advice on budgeting pretty pointless. We all know what we should be doing, but how we implement it when suddenly able to afford that round of shots, dinner out, or a last-minute ticket, is far less straightforward. 

The issue is not a lack of discipline or understanding, but the collision between individual financial habits and an environment where spending is both highly visible and socially loaded. In that context, generic advice about restraint offers little real guidance. 

What students need is not to be told how to budget, but to be given a clearer sense of the landscape they are budgeting within – one where expectations, pressures, and costs are made explicit, rather than left to be inferred. 

Until that visibility exists, the burden will remain unevenly distributed. Students will continue to arrive equipped to meet the academic demands of the University, but left to decipher its financial and social logic alone. 

Access without understanding is not access at all. And that is a gap no scholarship, however generous, or life-changing, can fully close.

St Catz reopens dining hall following RAAC renovations

Anisha Mohammed
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St Catz reopens dining hall following RAAC renovations

St Catherine’s College has reopened its dining hall, following more than two years of disruption caused by the discovery of reinforced autoclaved aerated concrete (RAAC) in parts of its estate.

The issue, which forms part of a wider national concern over RAAC in public buildings, led to the closure of key facilities, including the original dining hall. RAAC, a lightweight material commonly used in mid-20th century construction, has been identified as structurally vulnerable, prompting precautionary closures across schools, hospitals, and universities.

In response, St Catz introduced temporary arrangements to maintain dining provision, installing a temporary tent structure. 

The reopening of the dining hall represents a major step in the College’s recovery, with St Catz describing the moment to Cherwell as “an exciting day”. In a statement, the College told Cherwell they had taken “a careful and precautionary approach throughout”, prioritising the safety and wellbeing of students, staff, and visitors while maintaining day-to-day College life. They added that its focus had been on restoring core facilities “as quickly and safely as possible”, while minimising disruption.

Alongside the dining hall, other parts of the estate, including the JCR, have now returned to use. The College confirmed that further areas are expected to reopen in the coming months as remediation work continues. St Catz told Cherwell that the reopening of key facilities represents “strong progress” in its programme of works addressing RAAC on site.

While the College continues to navigate the long-term impact of the material, the return of the dining hall restores a central hub of student life, marking a step toward normality following a prolonged period of disruption.

Who gets to speak? The rise of the male podcast epidemic

Amy Lawson
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Who gets to speak? The rise of the male podcast epidemic

With Trinity in full swing, and the mornings finally getting light enough to justify a pre-8am wakeup, I’ve started running earlier in the day (in spite of the pollen count’s mission to decimate anyone brave enough to stray into Oxford’s green spaces). And, as those runs have grown longer, so has my need for something to fill them, particularly since my carefully curated Y2K playlist is wearing thin. No stranger to the world of podcasts, but definitely someone who has largely remained firmly on the fringes of that particular corner of the internet, I decided it might be time to swap my beloved playlists for something different. 

As a staunch fan of Dish – a food podcast hosted by Angela Hartnett and Nick Grimshaw, which interviews celebrity guests on their favourite dishes and relationship with food – and very much a creature of habit, I found it hard to branch out. Perhaps it’s because of sheer saturation: on their website, the Podcast Index reports a total of 4,671,900 podcasts ‘registered’ with them (each one required to have at least three episodes, and at least one of those to be over three minutes long), and such high numbers make innovation within the genre challenging. It’s hard to make your mark in the podcast scene when it is, format-wise, literally just people talking, making reliance on the entertainment value of a particular topic imperative. Or maybe it was simply my fried attention span, which struggled when confronted with 50 minutes of chatting.  

I couldn’t help but notice, however, that one of the reasons for my disillusionment with the genre was likely the glaring gender imbalance, often when it came to the most successful, well-known podcasts. A quick glance at the top ten in Spotify’s UK Podcasts Charts is telling, with the chart dominated by podcasts written and produced by men, with the exception of The Rest is Entertainment, co-hosted by Marina Hyde and Richard Osman, The Rest is Politics US with Katty Kay and Anthony Scaramucci, and The News Agents, featuring top journalist Emily Maitlis. It is interesting, though, that when women’s voices do appear in this top ten, they are often present as part of an ensemble. This is not to downplay the importance of their voices, or what they have to say; however, the lack of representation of standalone female voices in this high-profile list should ring alarm bells. 

Similar numbers can be seen beyond Spotify. A 2025 study from Sounds Profitable suggests that twice as many men create podcasts as women. This is not to say that women don’t produce or host successful podcasts – and in fact, the same study informs us that female creators show better retention once they’re established – but when we consider, for example, the average UK listener on a homeward commute, their exposure to female-produced content is considerably less than it ought to be. 

There is also the fact that male-produced podcasts have increasingly become assimilated with the voices of the far right. Andrew Tate gained fame partly through his official channel, Tate Speech on the platform Rumble, where his ‘Emergency Meeting’ episodes provide discussions on legal situations and media debates. Right-wing public figures such as Ben Shapiro dominate top charts for conservative shows, and Infowars with Alex Jones has served as a long-standing platform for conspiracy theories and anti-globalist narratives since 1991, before its closure earlier this year (and, in an ironic twist of fate, it is set to be taken over by satirical newspaper The Onion).

This is the dark side of podcasting. Requiring little more than decent recording equipment and access to the internet, it becomes a platform for anyone willing to talk for over three minutes, where personal opinions are laid down as fact and dangerous narratives are bounced around in an echo-chamber soundproofed by male voices. It is easy to write off some of these ‘manosphere’ podcasts as meaningless prattle, and they have certainly been subject to parody – even four years ago, SNL’s ‘Podcast Set’ sketch, centring on a fired employee who is gifted a Fisher-Price ‘Podcast set for white guys’ at his leaving party, was right on the money – but the rhetoric used by many of these men gains currency outside of the podcast sphere. Indeed, the business model of many podcasts is such that, in order to avoid one-dimensionality, brand deals, spin-offs, live shows, and Patreon subscriptions, promoted on social media, build an ecosystem that reaches far beyond the recording studio. 

There is, I hasten to add, no shortage of high-quality, creative female-and-queer-produced podcasts around. And they are often highly successful – My Therapist Ghosted Me has sold out multiple nights at Dublin’s 3Arena for its live shows, whilst The Log Books, a podcast on LGBTQ+ history, won Best New Podcast at the British Podcast Awards in 2020. But it is not simply the presence of women’s voices in the podcast industry which is important – it’s the sense of intimacy which is often created. Listening to the same voices each week, often in the same, strangely personal settings – like my runs around Oxford, or washing dishes after making dinner – establishes a kind of companionship, which is part of what makes the medium so persuasive.

But not all forms of conversational intimacy are made equal. Podcasts such as Dish, with its rotating guests and easy cohost dynamic, feel balanced and genuinely dialogic, where conversation serves to exchange perspectives rather than consolidate authority. Other podcasts, however – not only those in the ‘manosphere’, but also those in its orbit, or those who parody it so closely that the distinction begins to collapse – rely on a different dynamic entirely. In these cases, the performed casualness of the medium can conceal something more ominous. When a lone voice speaks, at length and unchecked, confidence soon begins to resemble expertise, and this is the hallmark of many of these popular male-produced podcasts.

The issue, then, is not that men occupy these intimate listening spaces, but that the podcasting industry seems to reward the performance of masculine certainty within them. And in a medium built on this relationship between listener and speaker, the voices we spend hours listening to will inevitably come to shape the way we understand the world. As such, it may be time to listen a little more closely.  

Violent clash outside Oxford Union during visit of Sudanese prime minister

Beatrix Arnold and Stanley Smith
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Violent clash outside Oxford Union during visit of Sudanese prime minister

A violent altercation broke out between the entourage of Prime Minister Kamil Idris of Sudan and protesters during Idris’ visit to the Oxford Union on Wednesday, 13th May. The incident occurred as Idris was exiting the Union after participating in a speaker event.

In a video seen by Cherwell, a crowd can be seen gathered around Idris’ car outside the Oxford Union, to protest the Sudanese prime minister’s visit to the debating society. Chants in Arabic of “Hurriya, salaam, wa ‘adaala” [“Freedom, peace, and justice”] and “madaniyya khiyar al-sha’b” [“civilian rule is the people’s choice”] can be heard from the protesters. 

The video shows a violent clash wherein a member of Idris’ entourage can be seen punching and pushing a man who was standing with the protesters. It is unclear from the video what provoked the altercation. The confrontation continues until Idris’ car drives off.

Idris was appointed prime minister of Sudan last year amidst the country’s ongoing civil war between the military-controlled government and the paramilitary Rapid Support Forces. Opposition to the Union’s invitation of Idris voiced online cites the authoritarian nature of his government as well as accusations of war crimes committed by the Sudanese Armed Forces, particularly the killing of civilians and perpetration of sexual violence. 

The Rapid Support Forces have also been accused of war crimes, notably the mass-killing of civilians in the city of El Fasher in October, 2025. Amnesty International has reported the widespread use of sexual violence as a weapon of war by the paramilitary group.

In a statement posted on Instagram on Thursday, Oxford University Sudanese Society “unequivocally” condemned the violence, asserting that “the right to dissent is one of the bedrock conditions of life in this country, in this city, and at this institution”. They further stated that “the respect owed to Sudan’s valued diaspora is not optional, and it does not pause for a motorcade. Yesterday, that line was crossed”. The society extended its “solidarity to those affected”, and promised to “support them in whatever they choose to do next”. 

During the event at the Union, Idris was interviewed by Yousif Yahya, the son of a Sudanese career diplomat. 

Yousif Yahya told Cherwell: “I understand that some members of the Sudanese community at Oxford disagreed with the invitation and with my role in moderating the discussion.” However, he emphasised that “the purpose of the event was not endorsement, but scrutiny and engagement through public questioning. The interview addressed difficult and contested issues directly, including questions relating to the current political process and the future of civilian participation in Sudan.”

A spokesperson for the Oxford Union told Cherwell: “It is not unusual for the Society to invite current and former heads of state to be challenged by members. Our events are organised and moderated by students. It is established practice that those students who have a direct interest in the relevant speaker event will assist in running the event. In this instance, Idris was interviewed by a Sudanese student who also assisted with the organisation of the event.

“Further, Sudanese students were given priority to question Idris live. One asked ‘What would it take for you to resign?’, and another asked ‘What are you doing to end the war?’, for example. It would be deeply misleading to suggest that questions were unfairly controlled or censored. The Society cannot control the answers given by speakers, but it can certainly give a platform for exposure, challenge and debate.”

Idris’ invitation and the consequent protest come amid wider controversy about the individuals invited to speak at the Oxford Union. Earlier this term, the far-right anti-feminist YouTuber Carl Benjamin was disinvited from a debate shortly before it took place, following opposition from student groups. The Union has also invited Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, who identifies as Tommy Robinson, to speak at a debate in Week 5, a decision which has generated widespread backlash from both student organisations and within the Union itself. 

Kamil Idris was approached for comment. 

Translations of Arabic provided by Sofia O’Casey.

Why Minimalist Jewellery Keeps Winning on Campus

External Contributor
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Why Minimalist Jewellery Keeps Winning on Campus

Campus style reflects a balance between practicality and personal expression, and jewellery plays a subtle but important role in that equation. Today, women’s jewellery on campus tends to favour clean, understated designs that can move easily between different parts of the day. From lectures to social events, students increasingly choose pieces that are easy to wear, adaptable, and quietly expressive.

Brands such as Edblad have become increasingly relevant within this shift toward minimalist campus fashion. Students are drawn to jewellery that combines simplicity with durability, allowing pieces to work across busy schedules and changing social settings. Scandinavian-inspired designs, known for their clean lines and understated elegance, fit naturally into modern student wardrobes where versatility and long-term wear matter more than overly trend-driven accessories.

Why Small Details Matter

Minimalist jewellery works well in student environments because it supports rather than dominates an outfit. With busy schedules and varied activities, accessories need to be reliable and versatile. Pieces that are comfortable and durable quickly become everyday essentials.

Quiet Pieces Fit Real Schedules

Student life rarely allows time for constant outfit changes. Jewellery that can transition easily from day to evening becomes more valuable.

  • Slim chains that layer or stand alone
  • Small hoops or studs that suit multiple settings
  • Simple rings that can be worn daily without discomfort
  • Lightweight bracelets that do not interfere with movement

These pieces integrate easily into different styles, whether paired with casual clothing or more formal outfits. Many students are drawn to brands like Edblad, where Scandinavian design principles focus on simplicity and function. Edblad creates nickel-safe jewellery in stainless steel, combining durability with a refined aesthetic. This makes the pieces suitable for frequent wear while maintaining a sense of understated sophistication.

Repeat Wear Signals Confidence

Fashion trends on campus have shifted away from constant novelty. According to insights highlighted in the State of Fashion, repeating the same accessories is no longer seen as a limitation but as a sign of consistency and personal style.

This shift aligns with practical considerations. Students often prefer fewer, higher-quality pieces that can be worn repeatedly across different outfits. Jewellery that maintains its appearance over time becomes part of a recognisable personal identity, rather than a temporary trend.

Subtle Style Still Feels Personal

Minimalist jewellery does not remove individuality; it reframes it. Small variations in layering, metal choice, or proportion allow students to express their style without relying on bold statement pieces.

This approach is also influenced by social media, where styling often focuses on detail rather than excess. A simple necklace or a set of rings can carry meaning through repetition and context. Over time, these pieces become associated with the wearer, adding depth to an otherwise minimal look.

Why This Style Continues To Last

Minimalist jewellery remains popular because it fits the realities of student life. It is affordable, durable, and easy to incorporate into daily routines. More importantly, it aligns with a broader shift toward thoughtful consumption and long-term use.

While bold accessories still have their place, everyday campus style favours pieces that are practical and adaptable. Jewellery that can be worn often, across different situations, offers lasting value. This combination of function and quiet expression ensures that minimalist designs continue to resonate with students.

Oxford and UN launch peace and security fellowship

Gavriella Epstein-Lightman
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Oxford and UN launch peace and security fellowship

The University of Oxford and the United Nations have launched a new Peace and Security Fellowship.

The fellowship was established by Oxford’s Department of Politics and International Relations in partnership with the UN Department of Peace Operations. It brings serving UN practitioners to Oxford to undertake research on peacekeeping and conflict prevention.

The programme, which began on Monday, 27th April, lasts eight weeks. It sees ten fellows from diverse professional backgrounds working on individual research projects and presenting their findings in a closing seminar and final paper.

Professor Richard Caplan, the director of the Fellowship, and Professor of International Relations, told Cherwell the topics the fellows are focusing on are “very varied but they all speak to critically important issues for the United Nations today”. Focuses vary from strengthening the rule of law and accountability mechanisms in conflict and post-conflict environments, to exploring how UN peace operations can adapt to the evolving geopolitical order.

Professor David Doyle, Head of the Department of Politics and International Relations, told Cherwell: “All of the Fellows [sic] work on the frontline of peace and security for the UN in some of the most challenging contexts in the world.” Doyle explained that “this is an opportunity for them to take a step back and to conduct research, in an academic context… yet informed by their extensive practical experience”.

The Fellowship launches at a time of undeniable geopolitical volatility. Caplan highlighted to Cherwell that it is “precisely because the geopolitical situation is in flux, [that] it is imperative to think beyond traditional UN approaches to international peace and security”. He added, in this context, that “it is a fitting time to be re-examining how UN peace operations and related tools can better address today’s challenges”. He also emphasised that the University of Oxford will benefit from “the insights the fellows can offer into the work of the United Nations and multilateral organisations more broadly”.

The Fellowship is funded through a contribution from Sai Prakash Leo Muthu and Sairam Institutions, in memory of the late Leo Muthu, Founder Chairman of the Sairam Institutions, a group of over twenty educational institutions. Although the programme is not yet endowed, Caplan told Cherwell that he hopes to secure “further funding to be able to offer the fellowship on a regular basis”.The programme will culminate in a public lecture on Thursday, 18th June by Under-Secretary General of the UN, Jean-Pierre Lacroix, reflecting on the future of UN peace operations. Lacroix said that the fellowship offers UN practitioners the chance to “help shape a more effective and forward-looking United Nations”.

I became more at home when I left home

Neville Lai
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I became more at home when I left home

I never felt more at home than when I was living thousands of miles away from home. It is indeed a paradox that many Chinese people living abroad know too well. Distance does not dilute identity – it sharpens it. What once felt ordinary at home suddenly becomes important, deliberate, and worth defending when you surround yourself with a different culture, language, and rhythm of life. 

It started with something as simple as food. Back home in Hong Kong, I took good Chinese food (to be precise, “yum cha”) for granted. Pu-erh tea was just what we were used to. Sauces were just sauces. But abroad, I began to hunt for authentic flavours with an almost religious fervour. I developed a true appreciation for well-aged Pu-erh – the deep, earthy taste that reveals itself gradually, layer by layer. The first boil, of course, is just a gentle rinse to awaken the tea leaves. I, too, craved the exact balance of spiciness found in specific Hong Kong-style sauces, like the difference between “spicy oil and spicy sauce”. The way of eating “Siu Mai” has to be balanced with sesame oil, the specific chilli oil and the right amount of soya sauce. I wasn’t just eating – I was preserving a piece of home.

Even the tableware started to matter. I became genuinely disappointed when a waiter handed me a fork and knife instead of chopsticks and a spoon. It wasn’t snobbery – it was the small daily reminder that the most natural way I interact with food was being replaced by something foreign and inappropriate. I also found myself paying attention to the blue and white porcelain plates and bowls in Chinese restaurants – quietly assessing whether they were cheap modern replicas or carried the elegant simplicity of Yuan or Ming dynasty aesthetics.

Food became my daily act of cultural resistance and reconnection.

The same shift happened with language and communication. At home, we used Chinese proverbs casually, without much thought. Abroad, I started researching their origins and backstories so I could explain them properly to my international friends. I wanted them to understand not just the words, but the centuries of wisdom and humour packed inside. At times, my Chinese friends and I would banter in Cantonese, playfully roasting Chinese stereotypes in that affectionate, insider way that we could. These gatherings felt like warm, familiar bubbles in an otherwise chilly, misunderstood setting.

Living abroad made me acutely aware of how much I missed the cultural shorthand – the jokes, the references, the unspoken understandings that don’t need explanation among fellow Chinese. We sought each other out not out of exclusion, but out of a deep need for that “safe haven” where we could relax, be ourselves, and speak freely without translating our souls, as though we want a hot meal for lunch, not a Tesco meal deal.

Even something as simple as colour took on new meaning. Back home, wearing red during the Lunar New Year was mostly about tradition. Abroad, it became an act of joyful compliance. I started wearing red more often – not just during Spring Festival, but whenever I felt the need to inject some vibrancy and cultural warmth into grey, British winters, a good way to remind myself, and perhaps others, that we ought to look beyond and celebrate colour, luck, and renewal.

But it wasn’t merely about preserving tradition. Living abroad also made me appreciate my home city in a way I never had when I was immersed in it.

I am writing this piece after landing at Heathrow Airport, waiting at Paddington Station for a train that has already been delayed by 20 minutes. The contrast is almost comical. In Hong Kong, I had grown used to the seamless efficiency of the metro and rail networks, good public services, and perhaps, the general sense that things simply “work”. The punctuality, the convenience, the speed – I didn’t fully value them until I stood on a cold platform watching yet another departure board flicker with delays.

From afar, China’s rapid development no longer feels like background noise. It becomes something that any country can be proud of. The high-speed trains, the digital infrastructure, the sheer ambition and execution – these things look even more impressive when you experience the frustrations of less efficient systems elsewhere.

While writing this piece might risk me being told to either “go back to my country” or questioned about my motivations to be in Oxford pursuing my studies, I would urge those people to reconsider. It is indeed a great privilege and opportunity to go abroad, but this feeling is the unexpected underbelly that comes with just that. It forces you to see your own culture with fresh eyes – both its deep historical roots and its modern dynamism. You stop taking things for granted. The small rituals (the right tea, the right sauce, the right chopsticks) become acts of identity. The proverbs and banter become bridges rather than assumptions. The frustrations abroad become quiet reminders of how proud one ought to be about human progress and connections.

I became more Chinese while abroad because distance stripped away the complacency that familiarity breeds. It turned passive belonging into active appreciation. What used to be “normal” became “mine” – something worth comprehending more deeply, preserving more consciously, and promulgating more proudly.

And perhaps that is the hidden strength of living abroad. We don’t just carry our culture with us. In many ways, we rediscover it, refine it, and sometimes even love it more fiercely than we ever did at home.

Oxford’s Career Connect is failing northern students

Esther Bird
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Oxford’s Career Connect is failing northern students

The north-south divide is alive and well at Oxford’s railway station at the end of term. While students heading south crowd the opposite platform, those of us heading north have enough room on the other side of the tracks for a quick kick-about.

The University of Oxford suffers from a severe lack of representation of Northern students, with almost 50% of UK-domiciled undergraduate students coming from London and the South East, while students from the North-West, North-East, and Yorkshire and the Humber made up just 7.6%, 2.5%, and 5% of admissions, respectively, from 2022-2024. There appears to be an inbuilt bias, however unconscious, against the North, the implications of which can be felt in a plethora of ways. 

Accent prejudice in Oxford, for instance, has been well-documented in recent articles from Cherwell and other student newspapers. Bias can start even before the first day – a friend of mine was asked if all the mines were closed yet in the North-East during our offer-holder day. Not exactly a great first impression. These attitudes reflect an ingrained social prejudice that just won’t come unstuck. Nor are they confined to the University. When doing my research for this article, it didn’t take long before I was hit with blatant assumptions about people from the North in the byline of a 2021 Daily Telegraph article, synonymising “bright young things from the North” with “students from poorer backgrounds”.

So you can imagine the pleasant surprise that I felt when the recent careers emails were sent round proudly advertising the “over 50 exciting summer opportunities available across the UK” that were about to drop. A quick browse on Career Connect, though, brought me back down to the (southern) earth, as the claims of placements “across the UK” didn’t come into fruition.

Of the 60-odd opportunities advertised in the first round of domestic summer internships, only one was an in-person placement in the North (an opportunity in Newcastle seems to have slipped through the net – otherwise, the map seems to have been erased north of Watford).

We’re undeniably very lucky at the University of Oxford to have so many internships organised and shared by the careers service. It is heartening to see that many of the placements available are remote, widening opportunities and improving accessibility. It’s also good to see that three regional alumni groups (The Oxford University Society of Cornwall, East Kent, and East Sussex – all, unfortunately, in the south) are offering bursaries to support students from these areas to access internships, while there are also routes within colleges and the broader University to apply for financial support and travel grants. But the implication that I would have to commute to the south in order to conduct a worthwhile in-person internship seems to ignore the many interesting and insightful organisations doing important and varied work in the North. 

While an online placement is certainly better than nothing, the idea that just because I’m from the North, I can’t access the same in-person insights into a workplace as my Southern counterparts seems pretty unfair. Because even if commuting into London, or forking out for a place to stay, was an option (it certainly isn’t for me), at the end of the day, it is the careers office that is missing a trick here. Through failing to advertise placements in many of the hundreds of fantastic organisations that are doing wonderful things in the North, it is the University’s students who are missing out.

Given that Oxford is a southern university, it is both reasonable and to be expected that the domestic internships are therefore weighted towards the South. It would be fantastic, though, if there were even proportional representation, offering a similar percentage of placements in the North as there are northern students. 

In recent years, the University and individual colleges have been making a concerted and commendable effort to improve Northern representation in the student body, with programmes such as Oxford for North East, Oxford for North West, and Oxford for Yorkshire and the Humber offering “workshops, application support, mentoring, and residential visits” in order to boost intake. Through making connections with organisations based in the North, for instance, through linking up with the Northern Powerhouse Partnership, the University could go one step further, cementing relationships with the regions and, in doing so, taking a more holistic approach to boosting northern admissions. Offering internships in the North would demonstrate long-term support for northern students that goes beyond the application process, ensuring equal provision once students are in the door.

For now, though, I had best get back to my search for a placement in those seemingly little-known, off-the-map backwaters like Manchester, Liverpool, and Leeds. 

The Devil is Sponsored by Dior: ‘The Devil Wears Prada 2’ in review

Ruya Oral
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The Devil is Sponsored by Dior: ‘The Devil Wears Prada 2’ in review

Anyone who has been to the cinema at all in the last couple of years will have found themselves asking the question: “Why does everything look like that?” This feeling is especially palpable when you’re watching the exact same scene from 20 years ago, desaturated. The Devil Wears Prada 2 opens with Andy (Anne Hathaway) brushing her teeth in the mirror, a perfectly unsubtle reflection of the first seconds of the original film. The only marked difference is the colour grading and the quiet hum of Andy’s electric toothbrush, signalling the decades that have passed, given that Hathaway’s poreless face certainly tries to deny it. 

The original Devil Wears Prada was a film that took a major Hollywood gamble. Being an adaptation of the roman à clef of the same name, the production team were backed into a corner in terms of how to finance and market the film, given the sharp and overt satire of the woman who owned the entire fashion industry. Anna Wintour was still, by and large, the most powerful person in fashion when director David Frankel was fighting to create an accurate representation of the fashion industry in his film. Patricia Field, the costume designer, sourced approximately $1 million worth of clothing on a $100,000 budget through her personal connections outside of the so-called ‘Wintour ecosystem’. Intuitive filming locations like the Met, MoMA, and Bryant Park all had board members associated with Wintour and thus could not be used as sets. The film implicitly argues that this is a story worth telling, even if the industry it claims to be intimate with is intent on boycotting it. For an almost tiringly self-aware sequel – yes, we know that a million girls would kill for this job, and an early scene warps the Meryl Streep cinematic universe by featuring an Instagram post that uses a screencap of Miranda from the original film – The Devil Wears Prada 2 doesn’t seem to recall the conditions of production in 2006 at all. 

From its earliest scenes through to the very end, The Devil Wears Prada 2 is functionally an unskippable ad. The sponsorships that the film took are displayed in a very obvious and sometimes tacky manner  – though I could see it coming from a million miles away, the shameless Starbucks promo made me wince and sink into my seat a little further. Whilst the coffee cups can be ignored to some degree, the brand partnerships are unfortunately also integral to the plot. 

We find out early on that Emily (Emily Blunt) now works in the advertising department of Dior. Andy, Miranda, and Nigel (Stanley Tucci) must appease her after it is revealed that a puff piece published by Runway praises a brand that uses sweatshop labour. Emily leverages this against the Runway executives in order to secure a five-page layout for the new Dior flagship, which Andy is assigned to write. In her interview with Andy, Emily speaks glowingly of how designer brands have essentially made themselves inaccessible for the average, middle-class consumer. According to Emily, the shoes you wear, the bag you carry, they speak to who you are and what you care about. Andy scoffs at this because she knows what the audience knows, too: your Dior purse only tells the world that you have too much money and not a clue what to do with it. The frustrating part is that she is functionally not at liberty to say anything else. The iron-clad partnership with Dior means that Andy, a character who we know to value principles over fancy dress, must change her tune. Patricia Field securing a Chanel wardrobe for the cast out of thin air is essentially what Nigel does for Andy in the first film – an important part about her transformation is that she has not actually risen in status, she has just made good friends in high places. In the second film, her new position as features editor at Runway earns Andy enough money to buy a luxury flat in central Manhattan. Maybe scoffing shows the true extent of her desire to retaliate. 

Though a big budget was undoubtedly necessary to secure the returning cast who are now all firmly on the A-list, I can’t help but partially blame the – pardon my French – late-stage capitalist slop on my screen on the rise of streaming services. This story, like all other scripts of the 2020s, has died a sad death; its eulogy will simply be the tudum sound. This is apparent even in the beigeness of the opening scene and Hathaway’s blemish-free face. Netflix has operated under a tiered subscription system for the last decade, wherein you can pay the difference to unlock ‘Ultra HD’ streaming. You can also, of course, pay to stream without ads. The luxury brand scheme that Emily describes is the same financial model that has taken hold of the film industry, causing the decline of cinema attendance and poisoning blockbuster-scale productions. Those who truly want it, the ever-growing roster of streaming services tells us, will pay for it. The rest of us must suffer.

It’s not all bad, though. I am definitely not high and mighty enough to claim myself indifferent to nostalgia bait, especially when it objectively makes a pretty good attempt at regenerating the buzz of its predecessor. Upon rewatching the first film with my friends to refresh our memories, one of them exclaimed: “There’s just so many scenes to queen out to!” This is what the sequel gets right – the focus is still largely on girls and gays, their fun, campy outfits, and of course, a musical number performed by Lady Gaga. Despite its glowering flaws, the film still makes for two hours spent smiling and bopping your head along to the soundtrack. 


However, the funniest part about the whole film is how it postures as self-conscious in a comically “maybe the real Prada was the devils we met along the way” manner, and still manages to be completely dense in other aspects. The 2003 novel The Devil Wears Prada was written by Lauren Weisberger after she spent a period working as Anna Wintour’s personal assistant. Andy is literally given the option to take a $350,000 book deal to write what would have probably been a “gooey” (as Emily accurately characterises her) depiction of the Prada-clad HR disaster that she works for, by Miranda herself, and she still turns it down. “This could hurt Miranda,” she whispers in a trembling voice when she refuses her publisher friend Talia’s (Rachel Bloom) offer for the book, to which Talia rightly responds, “Which is fine, because Miranda is atrocious!” To Andy, it’s more complicated than that, and maybe this is an acceptably humanist approach, but one thing is certain. In the world of The Devil Wears Prada 2, there is one thing that could have never existed: The Devil Wears Prada.

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