Ampersand, December 2021

FASHION UNDER THE INFLUENCE FEAT LUCAS PASQUINA,

BY LEAH OVERSTREET

SAMARA HUCK, & K MAGNUSDOTTIR MCCOMISH

The Blue and White’s

AMPERSAND

LEAH SHE/HER CC ‘24

Fashion Under the Influence

Of that New York City air, of course.

BY LEAH OVERSTREET

AFTER

BEFORE

I

t’s freshman year—your first time leaving the hometown that you’re totally too good for. Eager to acquaint yourself with your new home, you and your fresh-out-of-the-airport friends venture into the intimidating streets of Greenwich Village. Suddenly, you’re dazzled by the eccentric ensembles strutting past you on the grimy city blocks. Towering heels, handmade jewelry, and fresh dye jobs shove past you on the way to their next train, leaving you awestruck. Now this is New York. The streets smell like piss and your train is delayed by twenty minutes, but oh, boy, is the view mesmerizing.

Admiration quickly morphs into envy as you begin to compare notes, only to realize that your Hollister jeans and thrifted crop top aren’t the fashion statements they were back home. Being surrounded by runway-ready passersby is exciting, but you’re starting to feel underdressed.

Or maybe I’m just projecting.

This was how I felt in the fall of 2020, finally having escaped the quarantine hellscape formerly known as my childhood bedroom in Atlanta, Georgia. I didn’t have on-campus housing, but I knew that I would rot away if I spent one more day living with my parents.

Luckily, the pieces fell into place; I was able to move to the city with a stranger I met on the internet and take up residence in a shockingly well-decorated Airbnb.

I’ve always been a slut for fashion. Back in my high school, where the next-greatest fashion statement was a cold-shoulder top and Lululemon leggings, I was considered pretty fucking avant garde. I’d already had all of the necessary phases and childhood trauma to turn out gay and into alternative fashion, and I was pretty pleased with myself in the style department. But I was nowhere near ready for the kinds of looks I would encounter in New York. People weren’t just rocking what was on-trend or even what was deemed alternative and cool—they were wearing that weird shit. New York was filled with the kind of people high-end designers stole from so they could go on to inspire teenagers on Tiktok to thrift and DIY their way into internet fame. People were wearing things that I didn’t even know counted as clothing. This kind of innovative fashion is especially characteristic of the queer POC spaces in Brooklyn I’ve frequented recently. But at the beginning, first-year

Leah was blown away by the Demonia-stomping girlies in Washington Square Park. Baby steps.

All of this is to say that I felt waaay out of my depth. As much as I had wanted to branch out in high school, my dad and stepmom were pretty religious. I could barely get away with wearing a dress without leggings underneath, let alone a crop top or miniskirt. Anything too outlandish earned a healthy dose of judgemental side-eye. Of course, I was well-practiced in the classic changing-at-school maneuver, but the dress code at my southern public school didn’t leave much room for creativity. Once I was on my own and had no one to police my styling choices, I went full Bimbo, fashion-wise. Bras became my top

of choice, my skirts (as recommended by Paris Hilton) shrank to the size of a belt, I exclusively wore huge, chunky platforms, and my collection of thrifted fur coats, thanks to L Train Vintage, had me looking like a pimp. I felt inspired to start experimenting with silhouettes and found myself rifling through the superior thrift in the Bronx Salvation Armys trying to replicate the street-style looks of passersby.

And I wasn’t the only one. Even after just a semester or two, I observed my classmates’ fashion predilections transforming before my eyes. The Columbia students that I’d befriended were also striking out on their own for the first time, many of them queer people who’d never imagined that they would be allowed to attempt anything like the fashions they ended up embracing. With their families hundreds of miles away, folks who had never before felt safe or encouraged to express themselves through their clothing were excited by fashion’s potential to affirm their gender and sexuality.

Another undeniable influence has been TikTok, with creators providing a near infinite amount of “What I Wear as a NYC Fashion Student” and “Get Ready With Me” videos. There are hordes of wannabe stylists flooding the internet with style inspo, thrift hauls, and tutorials on how fillet a pair of nylon tights into the latest fashion statement. And the thing is, they are somehow ALL going to school in New York! Maybe it’s just the side of TikTok that I’m on, but nothing seems sexier and more romanticized than going to school in New York. Between the gaggles of college fashion influencers and the abundance of insane secondhand clothing shops, it feels like you have no excuse but to join the ranks of the fashionable locals.

All around me, people are undergoing massive fashion glowups and citing New York City as the catalyst. It isn’t just the influence of the thrift-savvy glamazons that’s induced personal style evolutions around campus, it’s the newfound freedom.

There is something incredibly liberating about being in a city where it’s so easy never to see the same person twice; it creates a sense of anonymity which can either inspire you to not give a damn or make you want to be seen. It definitely helps that the people around you don’t seem to be holding back. Style inspiration is practically oozing out of the walls and, chances are, you aren’t the most interesting person that someone has seen that day.

Whether they’ve been recently liberated from the shackles of heteronormativity, are fully realizing their fashion potential, or have just been bullied into upping their game, Columbia students are undergoing self-inflicted movie makeovers. With every day that passes, another mullet is cut, another signature coat is thrifted, and another style metamorphosis is taking hold. In Butler Library, a fashion-savvy freshman is ignoring their homework to make a Depop purchase that will change their lives. On Low Steps, someone has spotted the shoes of their dreams walking by. In Hewitt Dining Hall, someone is deciding that maybe they should get a buzz cut after all. New York has been making its impact on all of us, one thread at a time.

BEFORE

AFTER

“I’ve always wanted to dress this way, I just couldn’t you know? I didn’t really ever do rainbow or bright things but moving out of my mom’s house in Texas really let me explore as many colors as I wanted.”

SAMARA THEY/THEM CC ‘24

BEFORE

“Coming to New York has given me the inspiration to view clothing as an extension of self not solely for its utility. Diving deeper into fashion history here at Columbia has really fueled my interest in fashion and made me more aware of stylistic influences, materials, and eras that I pull from.”

BEFORE

LUCAS THEY/THEM CC ’24

“I grew up in a small town where everyone pretty much dressed the same. Moving to nyc to go to a Historical Women’s College, I was inspired by queer expression in every corner of campus and nyc. As I became more in tune with myself and realized nobody had an expectation of how I could/ should look, I started to genuinely dress however I wanted to everyday!”

AFTER

AFTER

K THEY/SHE BC ’23

& www.blueandwhite.org @theblueandwhitemag @blueandwhitemag