When my sister and I were packing up the entirety of my life to move from New York to Ohio, she asked me a very valid question. She looked at the stacks of shirts on the floor and wondered aloud, gently because I was in a permanently anxious state for most of August, if I needed to bring all of them to school. I declared of course I did and she fit them all into a cardboard box that fit into the car, but now barely fits into my second dresser drawer. I did not understand how college was going to work, and as I looked into the abyss of my freshman year, all I knew was that I couldn’t actually prepare for what was about to happen. But clothing, clothing I could prepare. So I brought all of the shirts I have owned since I stopped growing in probably about eighth grade to Kenyon. Surprising no one, least of all my sister, I had far too many shirts. One day I folded all of them to bring some order to my life (and my drawers) and I counted upwards of fifty shirts. I think I regularly wear about fifteen.
There’s the John Green shirt that was purchased for me in high school. Holden Caulfield thinks I’m a phony for never wearing it here, because I doesn’t look super good on me, and I’m kind of embarrassed of my Nerdfighter past. There’s a weird John Green stigma at Kenyon that states that you can’t be too big or too vocal of a fan because everyone kind of looks down on you if you admit that he’s one of the reasons you started looking into Kenyon. I disagree, but I never wore my shirt either so I guess I’m a victim of it as well.
There is another literary shirt that I have not yet worn on this campus. It’s a black tee-shirt that falls to about my knees and has a white drawing of a little girl standing next to a man in front of a sketched circle of men. There’s a lamp-post shedding light on the scene. The text underneath it says, “Don’t you remember me, Mr. Cunningham? I’m Jean Louise Finch.” A small stain of gold glitter overlaps some of the letters. I’m going to bring this shirt back next year and I really hope that I wear it.
One of my favorite never before seen in Gambier shirts is another black tee-shirt that likewise would only fit a human triple my size. It’s from the same aunt that gave me the Mockingbird shirt, actually. Red letters wrap the picture of a chemist and says, “According to my calculations, I’m 100% gangster.” In my personal opinion, it’s one of the funnier things I own. Sometimes I think I’d rather just hang it on my wall with a non-paint removing command strip than have it sitting in my drawer going unappreciated.
So, this is some advice for incoming freshmen: you may think you need every shirt in your closet, but you don’t. You will become a different person than you were in high school, and that’s okay! As for me, I’m not sure what I intend to bring back to campus next semester, but I anticipate less clothing.
Image credits: Pinterest.com, theidleman.com