Perhaps the first thing that I noticed about the student population at Dartmouth during my first term was their homogeneity in dress. This lead to some embarrassing situations, in which I introduced myself to people I had just met a moment earlier, thinking them to be someone new.
I began to drown in a sea of flannel and backwards baseball caps, lost in this utterly confounding new environment. One night, while desperately trying to memorize different shirt patterns in a hope to impose some sort of distinction on this den of conformity, a question struck me: why does everyone at Dartmouth dress the same?
It had to be more than just a product of L.L. Bean catalogues and a fear of individualism. A close observation of the football players down the hall and the campus in general yielded ground-breaking new insights into the mystery of the Dartmouth Uniform.
Anatomy of the uniform
Before beginning our study of the Dartmouth Uniform, we must first define what it is. If a visual aid is necessary, simply look up from the paper, and out a window, one will soon enough cross your line of sight. In the name of scientific accuracy, I captured one Dartmouth student for in-depth study. A snare was laid on fraternity row, baited with a can of Natural Light beer and several slices of EBA's pizza. This combination of food and drink proved irresistible, and soon I had my subject of study.
The student was clothed in full Dartmouth dress: a flannel shirt, green Northface jacket, backwards Dartmouth baseball cap, and backpack. Each item of clothing was studied in detail to determine its attractiveness to the Dartmouth student. After minutes of exhaustive study, the following conclusions were reached:
Flannel shirts: wearable economics
In the subzero climate of Hanover, the warmth provided by a flannel is necessary. But why are sweaters, or other types of long sleeved shirts not used? I have determined that the appeal of the flannel comes from the stain-camouflage ability of the pattern. The money saved on laundry can be put towards beer, tuition, or any of the many expenses of the Dartmouth student. The odor of the garment would be irrelevant, because the olfactory nerves of the student are rendered useless due to the stench of the fraternity basement.
Jackets as status symbols
Though most Dartmouth students do not climb Mount Everest in their spare time, many feel the need to buy expedition quality jackets. My theory is that the jacket is a status symbol every bit as much as a Gucci bag, a Rolex watch or a Hermes scarf. All are time honored totems of the super rich. As a matter of fact we uncover the basic truth: one needn't be rich to be a snob.
A further study of the jacket is available in my paper "The mating habits of the Dartmouth student." Also note that the pockets of the jacket are ideally suited for the pilfering of milk from Full Fare, a time-honored Dartmouth tradition.
Dartmouth backpacks
The weight of textbooks is apparently so great the an elaborate load-carrying system is necessary to transport them from class to class. The typical Dartmouth backpack appears to have been designed to carry small foreign cars for extended periods of time. The number of straps, buckles, zippers and Velcro enclosures on the pack are enough to make any dominatrix proud. No one has yet cracked the mystery of the single carabiner that seems present on nearly every Dartmouth students backpack. Perhaps there is religious significance to the "beaner," as the students called it.
I hope that my efforts in the study of the Dartmouth Student will give future freshmen (or 'shmen, in the ritualized language of Dartmouth students) a better understanding of the student population. If you have enjoyed this article, please look in next month's National Geographic for my new work, "The Fraternities: into the Heart of Darkness."
