I am confident I speak for most undergraduates when I say that part of what I love so much about being in college is that we exist for four years (five in some cases), in a sort of blissful isolation from the conventions and expectations of what many (upperclassmen especially) disdainfully refer to as "the real world."
Our hours of productivity do not generally - if ever - fall between 9 a.m. and 5 p.m. Rather, we're at liberty to stay out all night and sleep the better part of the sun-lit day if we choose. In academia, we have no "boss" per say; we're governed only by the guilt and anxiety our parents instill in us through weekly phone calls or electronic nagging. Yes, here, Points - not Visas - are accepted everywhere, and life seems as free as the condoms at Health Services.
Indeed, within this microcosm of society we call higher education we also operate according to different standards of dress than our professional counterparts. Take hair maintenance, for example. Whether heading to Wall Street or to a writing workshop, one often feels he just doesn't have the time or energy to neatly style his hair.
We pity the stock trader. He must both gel his hair and shave his beard despite his mood or schedule, because to neglect these tasks would leave him looking careless and unprofessional. The college student, however, need not worry about such matters. A baseball cap will keep hair out of sight and out of mind year 'round.
We live in an environment where, fortunately, comfort seems to prevail naturally over style. While a lawyer must change out of her high heels and business suit into her tank top and capris for yoga class, the Tufts coed rarely distinguishes between "gym clothes" and "school clothes." Many times the two are synonymous. Make no assumptions about students in sweat pants, spandex or wife beaters; more often than not, they're heading to the library, not the gym.
In fact, comfort is the dress code for today's college student. Unlike many working adults, we embrace the versatility of all types of clothing. Beyond gym clothes, I notice that sleepwear often doubles as one's outfit for the next day of classes. Men's undershirts and women's cotton camisoles are just two examples of underwear-gone-outerwear.
One of the underlying differences between dressing for the office, as opposed to dressing for class, is that each place has its own commonly understood definition of the word "casual." Dressing casually for class often implies nothing more than actually dressing. Indeed, we are a population characterized by an overindulged sense of laziness when it comes to our appearance - I am guilty, myself.
In fact, many of us have taken such advantage of the college dress code (or lack thereof), that we can not even recognize our shamefully comfortable ways until confronted with an occasion that specifically requires something nicer than, say, a Juicy sweatsuit.
For others, however, "casual" is a concept applied, at best, once a week. The Casual Friday at many offices is a special, highly anticipated day by many an employee. It is a day where self expression and personal style prevail; a day for Dockers or appropriately tailored jeans; brown - rather than black - loafers; and any color polo under the sun. Sarcasm aside, if Casual Friday dress at the office mimics some of your most formal attire, you are not alone at Tufts.
Whether through our dress, our schedules, or our general lack of domestic responsibility, we are constantly reminded that college is not just a place, but a lifestyle. And here, removed from many of the influences of the world beyond, it is this very lifestyle, more than the runways, which invents and perpetuates campus trends. If this actually is your office, consider yourself lucky, because here at Tufts, it seems to be the most convenient, most comfortable, most Casual Friday, everyday.
