Words by Clementine Wilson

Edited by Rachel Hambly and Bailey Tolentino

Your Fashion Choices Represent Your Character.

Are you an enthusiastic member of St. Andrews’ Clay Pigeon Shooting Society? A keen participant in the Kate Kennedy Club? Perhaps the start to an ideal Friday night pictures you having a drink or two at the Central. Or are you more of an Aikman’s kind of person? Maybe you’re on the Szentek committee and frequent events hosted by Artsoc or Chromatic. Or perhaps you exchange a night partying until 6 am for a morning starting at 6 am, keen to get work done. Maybe you’re an avid Bubble Run Club member, and you spend more time at Spoiled Life Cafe than lectures?

If you gave me a short rundown of your interests, I could guess with near-accuracy how you curate your wardrobe in St. Andrews. It’s a universal phenomenon: whoever you are, your taste in clothing is more or less representative of your daily routine. But in St. Andrews, where keen golfers are also techno-music enthusiasts and ArtSoc committee members are seen at Caledonian Society balls, this theme is not only amplified but also geared towards specific activities. Polo Society members ditch the Ralph Lauren sweaters for graphic tees at a DJ function. Don’t Walk models might go for the same Ralph Lauren sweaters that were ditched for a French Society wine-and-cheese event. The possibilities for different looks are endless; so much so that it’s almost like it becomes a video game.

Outside St. Andrews, the world still moves at its usual pace towards rapidly advancing technology, foreign conflicts, environmental changes, and more. But as soon as its students cross that border into the Royal Burgh, the world shifts focus. It’s as if we fashion-lovers become avatars, oscillating between the same classes, cafes, society events, night-outs, all subconsciously dressed according to the code each event wordlessly advertises.

When I was packing my bags for my first year at St. Andrews, the only advice I received was: prepare for rain, rain, and more rain. Waterproof boots took up half the space in one suitcase and the other half was stuffed with raincoats. But when I arrived for the first time, it seemed like I was one of few who had followed that advice. I was shocked to be surrounded by miniskirts and bare chests on my first night out; is this what people deem normal for early September weather? Then I saw people outside the library donning springtime coats or heading to Club 601 in transparent crop tops while wind was howling all around me. As I had clearly misread the dress code for St. Andrews, I started perusing for suggestions. I had been expecting Wellington boots and waterproof jackets. Upon consulting the St Andrews Charity Fashion Show’s Fall Fashion Guide, I was confronted by a surreality.

Taken from the St Andrews Charity Fashion Show TikTok page

Here, we see polka-dot stockings and ballet flats instead of waterproof boots, and sturdy raincoats replaced with thin jackets that just graze the hips. This wasn’t the only dress code I learned about. With each time I went out, it only got more specific. As the atmosphere shifted for each event I attended — a Haus event at the Union, a wine-tasting dinner party, a rave at an abandoned castle — so did people’s wardrobes. I thought to myself: how many clothes do these people own? It took me a while to realize that St Andrews is a town where, when you walk down the street, you must be dressed according to your aesthetics and respectful to your every move.

Where this phenomenon originated in our tiny coastal town is debatable, but my best guess is that it stems from a similar origin to the recent “Pick Your Outfit” trend on social media. Geared toward a mainly female audience, the trend lets users swipe through a series of choices for tops, bottoms, shoes, and various accessories… and it’s all based on a particular location: a jazz club, a vacation in Mallorca, a picturesque New England town during autumn.

If St Andrews had more global recognition, they’d come out with a version for us. Pick your outfit based on your day in St. Andrews:

1) Going to a tutorial in St. Salvator’s Quad.

2) Meeting a friend at Taste Cafe.

3) Going to Szentek Silo for a long night out.

4) Going to Beach Reeling hosted by the Caledonian Society.

You get the idea.

The obvious issue here is that it’s virtually impossible to find an outfit I’d be content wearing to all of these activities in a day. The list above, however, is more or less the blueprint for an average twenty-four hours in St. Andrews. And spending the effort (and money) on the excessive amount of clothes it takes to keep up with the subtle, unspoken dress codes for every event I might find interesting is just getting more and more unsustainable. Who am I going to be for my next night out? Am I channeling a Matilda Djerf-based “vanilla girl” look for a dinner party, do I want to go for an indie-sleaze-Charli-xcx kind of vibe for a WaxRooms event, am I feeling inspired by Keira Knightley’s iconic green dress in Atonement for my next black-tie ball? At St. Andrews, I can embody all of these aesthetics. But that’s the problem. The more I look at social media, the more overwhelmed I am with potential looks for my “next thing.” There are too many aesthetics, too many niches, too many events…simply too many options. If I had the time and means to find a way to dress up as all of these, I’d look and feel ridiculous. My poor avatar would have slicked-back hair atop a black-tie gown, paired with a hunting gilet and Onitsuka Tigers, a beanie, and rave-appropriate sunglasses to cap it all off.

Students at the 2024 Kate Kennedy Opening Ball.

As social media feeds and Market Street alike become increasingly overwhelmed with commercial products designed to promote our personal style — whether it's shoes, beauty products, or candle holders to put the finishing touch on our dinner tables — I think it’s time to ask ourselves whether all of this is necessary. The more I feel myself getting submerged in the video game of collecting St Andrews closet staples, the more I lose my sense of what’s true to my personal taste, not just in clothes. The time I devote to focusing on my personal “avatar” far outweighs the time I spend on my actual interests. Fashion is one of them, as it is for many of us. However, as society’s interest in merchandise swings from one end of the pendulum to the other, I, among plenty of others, can’t help but fall into the endless video game where coveted consumer products win you points that count towards the final objective: gaining social status. The problem is, like all video games wanting to keep their players playing, does that final end goal even exist? And if it does, how is it obtainable, and who dictates that?

St. Andrews is a Video Game