The first time I noticed it, I was wearing low rise baggy jeans, a fitted white baby tee, gold hoops, slicked back hair in a claw clip, and my beat up Sambas.
Nothing revolutionary. Nothing corporate. Just intentional.
It was a random Tuesday. I had finished a reading for class and didn’t have that low level academic anxiety that feels permanent on this campus. I could have thrown on an oversized hoodie and called it a day. Instead, I took ten extra minutes. I steamed the t-shirt. I did my skincare. I put on lip gloss. I chose the rings.
And, I walked differently.
On a campus like Columbia, everyone is intimidating in some way. You overhear someone talking about their research assistant position. You see someone coding between classes at Butler. You sit next to someone casually mentioning their summer in Paris. It can be easy to feel like you are constantly catching up.
Looking put together is not about impressing other people. It is about steadying yourself. There is a quiet kind of power in showing up to class looking like you chose to be there.Â
For me, the switch flipped in the eye of a stress hurricane, AKA midterms season. The days I rolled out of bed in mismatched sweats were the days I felt scattered. I slouched. I hesitated before raising my hand. I prefaced my comments with, “this might be wrong.” That said, the days I wore something structured, even if it was just straight-leg jeans, a cropped cardigan, slicked hair, and clean sneakers, I felt sharper. I sat up straighter. I spoke without apologizing first.
The outfit did not make me smarter. It made me more certain.
At Barnard especially, there is an unspoken culture of effortlessness. It is long coats in winter. It is tote bags with books peeking out. It is vintage leather jackets over sweat sets. It is girls who look relaxed but composed at the same time.
And the thing is, that composure is contagious.
When you look in the mirror and see someone who looks intentional, you start acting like her. You send the email you were overthinking. You go to office hours. You ask the follow up question instead of replaying it in your head later.
Gen Z fashion on campus is not about business casual. It is about curation. Oversized trousers with a tiny top. A messy bun that is secretly precise. A thrifted jacket that somehow makes even 9 AM look intentional. You do not need to look expensive. You just need to look like you tried a little.
There is something grounding about having a personal uniform. A formula you default to when everything else feels chaotic. For me it is baggy jeans, a fitted top, hoops, slicked hair, and clean shoes. It takes ten extra minutes. That is it. Ten minutes to feel like the version of myself who actually does the reading instead of just highlighting it.
Looking put together will not erase imposter syndrome. It will not guarantee an A. It will not secure the internship. But it does something smaller and more useful. It quiets the noise in your head for a second. And when the noise is quieter, you stop shrinking. You stop prefacing every comment with “This might be wrong.” You just talk. And honestly, sometimes that is all that’s needed.