I was recently alerted to an article over on Yale’s Alumni magazine blog. This post features one man’s memories of his days at Yale and how clothes played a strong role in his experience there. What makes this post more interesting than most of the posts about Yalies and their sense of style is that this man was not one of those men.
In fact, he recounts attending his freshman welcoming address feeling ignorant of the “rules.”
As my classmates and I converge on Woolsey Hall it is obvious that they all seem to know something that I do not. When finally all seated, we have fused into a dark gray flannel blanket, with occasional dark blue flecks, with the sole misweave where my respectable, not quite electric, but decidedly sunny, blue plaid suit seems to glow.
I imagine that the other student looked something like this.
Pictures above from the The Men of Ivy League Style Tumblr
And as we already know most Yale men are born into this style. Even if they do eventually stray.
George H.W. Bush and a baby George W at Yale
However, facing sartorial adversity as a college student is now a fond memory.
When I see the B. Gordon hanger in my daughter’s closet I simply cannot forget what an outstanding student I had been. As I walked to class, it was impossible not to notice my other purchase, my purple corduroy jacket bobbing in a sea of Harris Tweed sport coats, many with leather elbow patches over unworn elbows.
I survived. Maybe my fashion exceptionalism built character. Or perhaps my classmates learned about diversity and acceptance. No matter. But I still wish that Mr. B. Gordon had been on speaking terms with Mr. J. Press.
I wonder if he now returns to his Alma Mater looking like this? Click here to read the full story.
Picture from IvyStyle.com