Much to the chagrin of my parents, my primary concern when touring colleges my junior year of high school was the percentage of students wearing sweatpants versus put-together outfits. Oberlin was, by far, the most fashionable school I applied to, and as a junior again the greatest improvement I’ve made in the past four years (aside from my educational growth, certainly) is my wardrobe. Though I would love to say this was spurred by an innate, impeccable fashion sense of my own, I have taken endless inspiration from our student body, which can best be described as a walking fashion magazine.
Though Oberlin fashion can’t be described with one singular label, there are a few trends I’ve noticed during my time here. During my first fall break, I remember thinking that, before I went back to school, I had to find a good pair of boots. I have four different pairs now. Overconsumption? Maybe, but I do wear all four on a semi-regular basis. Taking a look around campus, some evidently worn (thrifted, of course--or maybe from the Free Store in Asia House) leather boots are essential. Paired with patterned socks or tights, a denim or colorful skirt of varying length, you’ve got the bottom half of at least a good third of the school’s outfits any day of the week. If not boots, a good pair of strappy flats, loafers, and the occasional vintage-inspired sneaker are surely there. Tops are, naturally, much more variable, but certain constants remain. Layers upon layers are worn, regardless of season. A cardigan or a button up, a t-shirt and a tank top, a scarf. Color palettes are often bright and overlapping with extensive patterns.
When accessories come into play, outfits become much more diverse. I’ve noticed the most eccentricity in jewelry. I wear pretty much the exact same jewelry every day, and all gold: hoops, a tennis bracelet, a bangle, a watch, rings and a necklace from my mother, and an eyebrow piercing that luckily hasn’t rejected. A facial piercing or several ear piercings are practically a rite of passage, maybe even an entry requirement. I got mine last year, but tons of my friends came in with a septum or nose ring. Earrings are generally quite large, often hoops but not necessarily always. Necklaces have that same quality: large pendant, thin chain.
No fashionable stone is left unturned, so hair becomes a well-worn accessory in its own right. I can’t remember the last time I saw anyone’s forehead for more than a 30-second period because everyone wants bangs and everyone knows someone with hair-cutting scissors. I’ve done my own for the past few years and they’ve gone from curtain to baby length in that time. This rampant trimmage extends from bangs to entire length: people get creative with pixies and bobs and any other form of layering. You might think a lack of access to private bathrooms would stop people from dyeing hair, but people find ways–I’ve walked into many a communal bathroom to the smell of bleach or developer. Chunky stripes or highlights are everywhere, even on my own head. Pink was much more common last year but definitely hasn’t died out. I’d say blue is pretty in this year.
A theme emerges there: maximalism. Oberlin fashion is layered, colorful, overlapping, curated. Though maximalism might signal excess, a central attribute of any Oberlin wardrobe is its second-hand nature. This is what makes every student’s style unique, perhaps contradictory to my outlining of a formula here. A t-shirt is probably from a relative or a friend, jeans from a thrift store back home. There’s a certain timelessness that comes with that, an authenticity. Style looks natural, not like anyone’s trying too hard or thinking about it for too long. While I spend too much time thinking about fashion right now, I’d venture to say that fashion is one of the many prominent invisible strings that connects Oberlin’s student body. Fashion is, as any form of art, a social activity, a visual producing and procuring of ideas and inspiration whether conscious or subconscious. It’s one of the many forms of learning and collaboration that happen in college outside the classroom. This is not to say that Oberlin fashion is a monolith, nor is it some sort of program you’ll be indoctrinated into once accepted; Oberlin fashion is much rather the visual representation of the common ideas and curiosities that draw this group of people together. We don’t dress this way because we go to Oberlin, we go to Oberlin because we dress this way. However you dress must be, then, how an Oberlin student dresses. Do these trends shift over time? Possibly–probably even, but I’ve seen a few old copies of Hi-O-Hi that might suggest otherwise. Someone will have to write about this again in a few decades.
