Take off your clothes - and put on better ones

JULIA TIERNAN/YH Poo to you, who sport blue doodoo wear.

Do you remember the first day of school? New teachers, new friends, new clothes, and new glue to eat--how exciting! Not much has changed since that time, except for maybe the glue ingestion part. Going away to college ups the stakes on these innocent childhood expectations. You must now face professors who can recite the Marx-Engels Reader by heart. Settling into a new group of friends means negotiating a minefield of politics and recreational activities in order to find your niche. As for new clothes, it is not about OshKosh B'Gosh anymore. Although I am wholly unqualified to comment on the educational and socio-political ambiance of Yale, I am more than happy to succor the sons and daughters of Eli in their quest for fashion knowledge. The matriculation of new students at Yale does not change the university's stylistic face. More often than not, it just emphasizes the look that already pervades our fine institution.

I am proposing an extra page in the Yale University application with questions like, "How many items of The North Face do you own?" or "What year and what model is your latest piece from Patagonia?" Attempts to evade these closet inquiries will result in immediate rejection. In a few words, the majority of Yalies are a pupu platter of haute hiking and the innocuously preppy. The ever-present North Face backpacks and storm jackets prove you can never have enough straps, holsters, and pockets for your, um, pencils. Fashionably fleeced folk would not be caught dead without their Patagucci pullover. You certainly cannot get from your room to, well, someone else's room safely without lashing on the Vasque boots. If College Street thwarts your access to our local Gap, utilize that Jeep Grand Cherokee, Jeep Grand Cherokee Limited, or Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo and plow through the pavement. The culmination of these ubiquitous fashion statements might give an innocent bystander the impression that we attend classes in the Himalayas or pitch tents on Cross Campus.

This is not to say, of course, that we are permanently lost in the great outdoors. Indeed, Yalies make the transition from Gore-tex to Gucci quite easily. It is only slightly ridiculous that some students use Prada and Kate Spade bags for their school books (yours truly excluded from this scathing commentary, of course). Trendmonsters and fashionistas proudly populate the campus. Anything remotely cargo remains a popular choice for guys and girls. Aberzombie & Bitch's full-cut cargo shorts and pants are faux-rugged and overpriced--i.e., perfect for Yale men. Ladies have altered the look by shifting the pockets, tightening the fit, and flaring the leg. Pants have been the impetus for many new stylish statements at this school. Capris, clamdiggers, and other variations on the glam-floodwater look are now about as permanent a fixture here as Old Campus' statue of Nathan Hale, Class of 1773. Note that this is in no way an endorsement of the look for everyone--let the dressing room mirror be your guide (and not Old Navy). As a special bonus for imbibing my fashion knowledge, I present the females of Yale with a summer shopping tip: use these months to purchase black boot-cut stretch pants, a.k.a. booty pants, for bacchanalian frat orgies and Toad's Place, Yale's popular and overtly wack hot spot. If you do not mark my words, you might end up visiting Chapel Square shops, the black hole of fashion. Trust me, the only clothes shopping you will want to do there is for embarrassing initiation rites.

As the shopping in New Haven shows, Yale University can be home to just as many clothing horrors as stylistic hoorays. Certain practices in this world--torture, animal cruelty, wearing acid-washed jeans--should clearly be stopped. I am begging people not to waste room in the car by packing pants that are: tapered ('80s), pleated (marsupial), cuffed (only for effect, they make you look shorter otherwise), holey (I am not talking about the pope), or any combination of the above.

Only geeks would ever even think of pairing white socks with Tevas. Guys, please abstain from sporting the most emasculatory footwear in existence on this planet, Adidas Sambas. I also feel that I should pass this elite kidney stone of wisdom to all those eager ears out there--for godsake, stop wearing all your Yale gear! Be content with strutting your Yale paraphernalia elsewhere, because, as Shira Brisman, BK '01, wisely said, "Wearing a Yale shirt on campus is like sitting in your living room wearing a t-shirt that says `Home.'" After all, fashion at Yale is certainly redundant enough as it is.

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