Making the trek across campus is not always a simple task, especially when there’s a foot of snow on the ground. To survive Brunswick in the winter, one must have the proper gear. This includes a nice hat, a puffy coat, a pair of gloves (not mittens), but—most importantly—a pair of snow boots.
It’s nearly impossible to get across campus without being miserable if you don’t have the proper shoes. Trust me: I know, because I don’t have the proper shoes. Obtaining a pair of boots for winter has been on my agenda for quite some time now. In fact, I’ve been mentally preparing for harsh conditions since September. And yet, I can’t seem to commit.
To buy Bean Boots, or not to buy Bean Boots? It’s a bit silly, but this conundrum has been plaguing me for months. So much so that buying a decent pair of snow boots has become somewhat of an insurmountable task.
On one hand, a part of me completely rejects the Bean Boot way of life. I refuse to be just like every other student on this campus; Bean Boots are way too normative for a girl like me. Instead, I’m going to buy something much more akin to my own sense of style and probably extremely impractical from Etsy. Or, perhaps I’ll invest in a pair of off-brand boots that look exactly identical to Bean Boots, but still somewhat preserve my sense of individuality.
On the other hand, I have to admit I secretly really want a pair of Bean Boots. From what I’ve heard, they would do a good job keeping my feet warm and dry. I want to support the Maine economy, because apparently that’s very important to me. I’ll get the sweet deal of free repairs on my boots for the rest of my life, and hey, I chose this school, I might as well drink the Kool-Aid and fit in.
Unfortunately, the conundrum doesn’t end there. It’s not just Bean Boots. As a first year, the second you arrive on campus you become aware of the many signature trends of the typical Bowdoin student. There’s the Patagonia fleece, the button-down flannel, the backwards hat, the Barbour jacket, the canvas backpack, and, of course, anything J. Crew.
As a result, many first years have slowly but surely started to conform to these norms whether they realize it or not. Boys who were once content wearing a simple crew neck T-shirt have exchanged them for flannel. Girls who needed to invest in rain boots for college immediately flocked to Hunter. If you feel that this isn’t the case because your style has stayed consistent all year, it is most likely due to the fact that you already owned most of these items anyway.
Whether we like to admit it or not, most Bowdoin students dress like most Bowdoin students, and those first years that once looked unique in the beginning of the year don’t seem so unique anymore. Even the so-called “hipsters” that go here, who supposedly reject conformity, all look identical in my eyes.
So do I get that pair of Bean Boots or not? I still haven’t decided. I might just let my feet suffer and wait out the winter, because I am afraid whichever choice I make somehow reflects a deeper meaning about my personality.
In the meantime, I think that we should take a deep look at our wardrobes and ask some questions: Does your clothing reflect that you’re a Bowdoin student, or does it reflect you? In loosing our individual styles, are we loosing a sense of our own individuality?
Now, I’m not saying that you should go back to your dorm, burn your Barbour jacket, and start wearing dashikis with leather pants to class. This would be a poor attempt to try and prove your own uniqueness, and unless that’s really who you are, probably not the best idea (remember, you don’t go to Wesleyan). Instead, maybe you can take out an old T-shirt from home that you retired for whatever reason and break it out again. Believe it or not, your wardrobe can be a reflection of a Bowdoin student—because let’s face it, you are one—and of you at the same time.