Growing up in LA, I always viewed a workout set as a complete outfit. My social interactions often revolved around hikes or yoga classes. Athleisure was accessorized. Large sunglasses. Stacks of gold jewelry. Designer shoulder bags. In my world, people invest in high-quality exercise clothing the same way someone might splurge on a nice pair of jeans or boots.
Before starting at Yale this fall, I realized that I needed to diversify my wardrobe. I decided to invest in a pair of loafers. I had already saved images of Hailey Bieber styling loafers with denim shorts and a baby tee to my Pinterest board. It’s a versatile shoe! And given my new identity as an East Coast College Girl, I thought the shoes would be a staple. Little did I know that this was only the beginning of a complete shift in my wardrobe from baggy t-shirts, tube tops, and flare leggings to the restrictive fabrics and tailored shapes of business casual.
One rainy afternoon during my fall semester, I headed to the Bingham basement to do my much-procrastinated laundry. I thought laundry day would be an appropriate time to finally break out my finest loungewear: a baggy t-shirt, black Alo sweatpants, and Birkenstocks. And, quite frankly, I didn’t have another option. I sat on the dusty floor and waited for my loads to finish, keeping my eyes down, blasting music on my headphones.
Suddenly, an acquaintance walked in. I slid off my headphones and smiled. He took one look at me and let out a little laugh. “What’s that outfit for? Hazing or something?” I was shocked. Since when did the coveted Boston clog become the butt of a fashion joke? I never left my room in sweatpants again. Not even for laundry day. If it weren’t for my occasional visits to Soul Sweat or dance rehearsals, I am certain that my treasured flare leggings and bra tops would be collecting dust in the back of a drawer.
Many friends have expressed a similar reluctance to appear in public dressed in athleisure and loungewear. I spoke with two friends of mine, both of whom attended boarding schools here in New England.
Jaidyn Hurst, BF ’27 told me: “In high school, everyone would usually change into leggings or sweats immediately after class. Here, I still wear a sweater and jeans when I’m going to the library late at night.”
Similarly, Joon Whang, GH ’27 recalled a similar experience: “We had a dress code. I would wear khaki pants everyday, but usually change into sweats or pajama pants after class.” Whang expressed feeling less pressure as a male student, because “the thing about guys is that they care less about what they wear in general… I could wear the same pants every day, and I don’t think anyone would notice.” However, he still is aware of a level of formality that differs from what he experienced in high school. “Here, it feels like I’m dressing in ‘dress code’ all the time.”
Hearing that other students shared my opinion was validating. We speculated whether Yale students’ style was simply a reflection of the weather and a change in seasons. But then I second-guessed myself: maybe my surprise at the pervasiveness of more elevated dress is just another example of my relaxed Southern California upbringing rather than a testament to a unique culture at Yale.
I spoke to a friend who attends Colgate University in upstate New York, where winters begin earlier and last longer than they do in New Haven. When I asked if she had stopped wearing athleisure since starting college, she said, “Well, I’m wearing leggings right now.” She continued, “No, I think the whole business casual thing you’re always talking about is unique to Yale. That’s not really a thing here at all.”
When we hung up, I looked around, searching for another person in leggings as I walked down Chapel Street. I saw trench coats, heeled boots, blazers, and pencil skirts, but not a single pair of leggings or sweatpants.
Maybe there is something delightful about the aesthetic we all silently buy into as a student body. The large coats, the dark, neutral palette. Something always feels a little wrong about walking into Starr wearing athleisure, a certain disregard or disrespect for the history that surrounds me. To be fair, a business casual aesthetic is more versatile, layering experimentation, and self-expression more than a monochromatic workout set ever has for me.
