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Saturday, Dec. 21, 2024
The Observer

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The universal nature of themed outfits

A themed function hates to see me coming. Any excuse to get creative and plan an outfit, follow a color scheme or — if I’m feeling particularly zany — procure props elicits an incomparable joy only rivaled by the actual debut of the given outfit. From freshman year SYRs (thank you Lyons Hall for some quirky themes during my tenure as an undergraduate) to the oft-lauded festival that is Halloweekend on a college campus.

The one downside of thematically-specific affairs, however, is a side effect of its perfect character: What do you wear? How is it possible to stand out in a crowd of people thinking the exact same thing? Perhaps the largest question for me looks to the future: When will I ever wear something this specific ever again?

The answer to this final question is surprisingly easy. I would like to think there are no rules when it comes to personal wardrobes, and a college campus is the perfect place to stop giving a second’s notice to your outfit or any other person’s garb. I’ve made it a personal goal of mine to incorporate costumed pieces formerly reserved for party regalia into my weekly wardrobe, amplifying my academic capabilities with a swatch of … unique … fabric. 

Enter: the USA fit. Acquired September of 2022 for Duncan Hall’s USA-themed SYR, this robe set has walked with me throughout the remainder of my college experience. Situated comfortably in my 13-gallon bin for all my costumes, this robe particularly makes many appearances outside of the theme it was once utilized for — hall council, the Paris Olympics and sometimes when I’m simply a little chilly. Its beauty comes in its versatility, and I’m sure there are a million more uses for it that I am neglecting to mention or have yet to discover.

As an amateur referee, proper attire for a job well done cannot be neglected. Settling quarrels between friends over things that definitely do not matter requires a dedicated mediator, and the referee shirt I snagged from someone random in my dorm’s GroupMe and forgot about until I unpacked all my boxes safely at home is integral to standing as the glue binding my friends to each other eternally. To whoever I got that shirt from, thank you for your generosity; it has not gone to waste. While it’s underutilized compared to my beloved aforementioned USA costume, the utility my referee uniform has shown outside of its original purpose (Halloween 2022) has cemented its place as a wardrobe staple.

One of my particular vices is my affinity for losing quality sunglasses. RayBan? Dream on. Aviator? I barely know her! This unfortunate shortcoming, despite its inconvenience, opens up a world of opportunity for the sunglasses I have obtained for various reasons across the past four years. The current sunglasses I use for driving under the blinding light of South Bend sunsets are a deeply regrettable shape and color: pink clout goggles. Do I think they accomplish any level of UV protection? Absolutely not — if anything, they are making the situation worse. But without these pink sunglasses, I would seem underprepared for the strong rays of the sun at any hour of the day (except after sundown, naturally). 

Having somewhere to be that requires the acquisition of a costume opens up a world of future opportunities. It may be important to have the most shock-inducing, awe-inspiring outfit under the flashing lights and cloud of humidity present at any given dorm’s SYR or a house party somewhere you do not foresee returning, but the utilization of these pieces outside of their original purpose provides a different level of forward thinking. Not just sticking to the function’s theme, but to the theme of life — or rather of sustainability — will benefit generations to come. The future depends on your ingenuity. Recycle your costumes. They don’t have to stay as costume pieces forever. See you at a lecture clad in a zebra onesie and fairy wings!

The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.