"Hello? Oh, hey Dad. Yep, it's been a pretty standard Monday: ... got back my bio quiz ... ran the Occom Pond trail ... was serenaded by a giant whoopie cushion in FoCo...Uh, no, I'm not really sure where the counseling office is, actually ... "
So maybe that flaired-out guy in the Cords wasn't technically serenading me, per se, but does a little self-centered indulgence really merit a psychiatric referral? I think not. Like my creeped-out father, those outside the Dartmouth snowglobe just don't get flair. Then again, why should they? Dartmouth's basically a bell tower amidst a flurry of white, right? Wrong. Hold the plastic bobble up to the light, and the homogenous fog dissolves into a shimmering swirl of magenta crushed velvet, cheetah-print fabric and spandex -- hot pink, gold lam and tangerine. Add all that to the pale, plastic udders on the girl strutting through Collis in a cow suit.
Writing off the udders as "not a big deal" to your friend from Tufts visiting for the weekend is quite a doozy, to say the least. "Oh, people think we're crazy up in this school," said Meghan O'Brien '11. Indeed they do, especially when you wear elastic-waisted, faded blue denim maternity pants with a kangaroo-like stomach pouch to frat parties, as O'Brien does.
Even defining for yourself the epitome of Dartmouth flair proves difficult. In its most basic sense, flair is "wild clothing -- the kind you'd see from a costume shop or a thrift store," said Addie Gorlin '11, a member of the notably flair-friendly Lodj Croo and Kappa Delta Epsilon sorority. "I also don't know how to spell 'flair,' meaning extra, like an extra piece of clothing. Or, if it's 'flare,' like a fire and the way that it's bright and different." From there, opinions continue to diverge.
"I think that flair is taking your personal style to another level, beyond what people normally do," commented Leigh Latimer '11 of Panarchy. "In high school, I was 'that girl' who wears those crazy things. And then, coming here, you realize that everyone wears crazy things! You can really find your niche ... I don't really think of flair as any different than what you're really into."
On the other hand, "Flair is a joke that people take really seriously," said Lindsay van Landeghem '11, a pledge at Sigma Delt who wore a red onesie for a week earlier this term.
"[Flair is] an integral part of our culture," said van Landeghem. "The type of people that wear flair, like H-Croo and Lodj Croo, make it cool to wear flair. I don't think that's the culture in other places."
Truth: From the moment a lanky freshman arrives at Dartmouth for his DOC trip, the illustrious flair rears its tacky head and pounces, in the form of Croos' crazy get-ups.
"The purpose of Croo flair is to wear stuff ridiculous enough to make freshmen feel a little less ridiculous or awkward," said Luke Mann-O'Halloran '09 of Vox Croo. "If they're the only people hiking in jeans and feel weird, and we show up totally whacked out with me in a skirt, it could make them feel more comfortable."
Nick Brown '09, a former member of Lodj Croo, agreed, adding, "If you tried to play the silly games that we do at the Lodj in jeans and a polo shirt, I don't think it would fly ... It greases the wheels a bit and allows freshman to embrace the funny."
But did it work? "I was actually really reluctant to the idea of wearing weird things," recalled Bailey Fore '11. "I remember when I got my first flair, I was like, 'Ew, I don't wanna wear a butt suit or neon orange headband around my head!' That just did not fly with me, but then it quickly grew on me." She now eagerly whips out her baggy blue shorts complete with sewn-on plastic butt-cheeks.
However tempting that might sound, Mann-O'Halloran pointed out that even the earliest expression of flair has its boundaries: "For a party with just my friends, I might be willing to wear more risque flair, but when you're on Vox Croo and around freshmen, you obviously can't be too sexual or revealing, because you don't want to freak them out, so there is that consideration." One can't help but wonder what he wears "with just his friends."
He isn't the first to point out that, ironically, flair has its limits, however malleable they prove. "There are lots of occasions when it's inappropriate to wear flair, but I don't think it's ever so inappropriate that it's not worth doing it for the laugh," said Brown, also a member of the notoriously flair-tastic Ultimate Frisbee team and the Aires.
Students who wear flair when they interact with faculty members also raise a point of contention.
Erin Larson '11, a member of Ski Patrol, said that she would only hesitate to wear flair "at lunch with President Wright, although I think he'd be okay with it."
"If you're decked out in spangles from top to bottom, that might be distracting in seminar. But I feel like profs don't really mind that much," said Latimer.
On the other hand, Lauren Breach '09 of AZD, commented, "I don't think it's necessarily appropriate in class. I know that professors have gotten mad at members of fraternities who have to wear certain things for wearing them in class. I don't think that's appropriate when you're interacting with administration people."
Why do we so frequently don heinous '80s dresses and sewage-green trucker hats, perhaps at the risk of being Parkhursted? The actual wearing of flair isn't always the motivation behind stuffing your muffin top into a pair of hot pink leather pants. According to a female '12, who wished to remain anonymous, "The best thing about flair is when someone rips it off you."
Riveting.
Aside from that evocative opinion, students overwhelmingly praised flair's liberating qualities. "What I really like about Dartmouth is that Dartmouth students work hard and they also play hard, and not necessarily in an alcohol or a ragey sense," said Breach. "Just in general they have a lot of fun. So our obsession with flair just shows the more relaxed, fun side of Dartmouth students, which I don't think you'd find at other schools."
"For me, I feel kind of different when I'm in flair. I feel uninhibited," said O'Brien. Like the ancient Greeks' worship of Dionysus, flair provides a temporary, healthy release from the more stressful, daily grind (Hello, Humanities 1!).
"Flair is also a self-image thing. Not a self-esteem thing, but you're trying to look a certain way, and flair happens to be that way, and people are so used to flair, that it's more for oneself than for other people to notice," said Gabriel Werner '11, a pledge at Alpha Chi.
Is it true?! Are we -- gasp -- desensitized to flair? "[Flair is] kind of whatever, because people at this school do it so much," Werner continued, "I see someone just walking around in a crazy outfit, crazy hair color -- not that special."
While Nick Brown admits that flair's wide acceptance detracts from its claim to uniqueness on campus, he still embraces its humorous qualities. "If [flair] weren't so widespread, people would be more confused the first time they saw bright sequined spandex, but it doesn't detract from its ability to get a laugh," he said. "I think that's more the reason that people continue wearing it, not just to make all 100 people in Novack notice you."
In addition, many stated their love of flair's communal qualities, rather than its ability to set one apart from the crowd. "I don't think anyone is judged or judges for [flair], and everybody knows it's pretty fun. It shows that people are comfortable enough around each other to let down the inhibitions enough to be ridiculous," said Nell Pascall '09 of Vox Croo.
Pascall admitted, however, that flair could suppress a student's attempt at individual style apart: "For the first two weeks of term I wandered around with a rainbow on my head, and every now and again I'd see a person with bright red hair and would think, 'Wow, that person isn't in flair. They just have red hair or blue hair, and that's their expression of style.' So sometimes I do feel like I'm taking away from that, or that it made me feel a bit awkward."
Larson disagrees, saying, "I think if anything [flair] allows for more creativity."
O'Brien certainly channels the creative force when she's decked out in flair. "Sometimes it's fun to go for a specific look. I think, 'Am I gonna be the pregnant Hanover High student or the rowdy, Tupac's face-on-my-jeans person?'" she explained.
Mann-O'Halloran shared the more planned approach to flair while on Vox Croo. "I think about style when I'm wearing flair, which I don't do in my daily life. 'How does this skirt look with this top? I'm looking for two that will really clash,'" he said. "Whereas in my daily life I've assembled a wardrobe where I don't really need to think about that, so I don't."
Not everyone expressed the need to plan their flair-fits, including Bailey Fore. "The less thought you put into it, the better," she said.
"It's spontaneous," agreed Addie Gorlin '11 of Lodj Croo and KDE. "I just have a bag of [flair] sitting under my bed. It probably smells really bad. Most people consider it sacrilegious in a way to wash your flair. I don't know how I feel about that. I haven't really gotten to the point where it needs to be washed, well, arguably."
Perhaps it doesn't smell that bad after a few days of acclimation, but unwashed flair rush-delivers a health threat right to the campus doorstep. Mann-O'Halloran '09 shared his traumatic experience: "When we're not on Croo, our flair just lives in boxes. And since we go hiking in it, it just doesn't get washed, so it is so gross and grim and smelly. During trips, when I was picking out flair, I had an allergic reaction and could not go in the room because of all the mildew and stuff on the clothes." Potential pandemic?
If not for the blatant health risks, why would students dislike flair? And does anyone dislike flair to begin with? "No!" said van Landeghem emphatically. "I feel like if you come to Dartmouth, you're the type of person who would be at summer camp all the time. It's a very DOC culture."
Latimer offered a different conjecture: "Some people get a little bit pissed off about flair, but I think the only reason is that it feels like you can never really be normal ... you have to be constantly trying ... We give off this air of not caring, like a swimming duck, paddling furiously underwater, but you don't see anything above the surface ... Honestly, they'd be doing that anyway, with J. Crew or whatever, so why not embrace it?" Thought: Do ducks prefer banana costumes or sweater-vests?
"I don't think anyone would say, 'I'm against flair on principle.' I just think there are guys for whom it's not something they're interested in ... When we have themed parties with sororities, the levels of participation with the theme varies widely, with the guys and the girls. Some will come all tricked out in the theme. Others will show up in jeans and a T-shirt. I don't think it's a gender thing," said Mann-O'Haloran, a brother at Sig Ep.
Many students completely disagree with this evaluation, citing sororities as the resounding force of flair-thusiasm on campus. KDE's Tackies are the prime example, an event at which, earlier this term, I couldn't help but resent my lack of a bubblegum-pink tutus or a ridiculous cape. The real travesty? I showed up in a V-neck. The lesson: Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's gemstone bra -- bring your own.
Driving the sororities' gusto is the bequest system. "Seniors will bequest items to the juniors and sophomore members, and it has a lineage. Some of it has been with us for a long time, and some of it the sisters add each year," explained Kristen Rounds '09, president of Sigma Delta sorority.
"It's just random crap that no one wants to take to move out with them, so they bequest it," continued Rounds. "So there's a lot of new, goofy stuff and some more older, sentimental bequests."
KDE's predominantly bequests "heinous '80s dresses," according to Jinhee Oh '11, a KDE pledge.
Unfortunately, neither the president nor the vice president of public relations of AZD could be reached for official comment. According to Lauren Breach, a sister at AZD, "There's definitely an official bequest system. I'm pretty sure that every house has one, but it's not really something we're allowed to talk about. It's more of a private, ritual-type thing." Is the bequest of ritualistically slaughtered animal carcasses a possibility? Hey, I wouldn't rule it out too quickly: Carnage could be a nice flair accessory -- smelly and unique.
"I think flair is something that you end up building on your own, and bequests just supplement it. Sororities give like one piece [of flair to each sister per year], so even if you were in it for four years, you would get four pieces, rather than a whole outfit," said Oh.
Many agree, particularly Fore -- an unaffiliated yet unabashed flair enthusiast.
The issue of flair and fraternities provoked much debate, but, generally, themed parties hosted by frats -- Sig Nu's '80s party, Alpha Chi's Cheese Ball, Tri Kap's Eurotrash, etc. -- are considered flair-worthy events for brothers. Their approach to flair is quite different from that of sorority sisters.
"I think fraternities' perception of flair is not necessarily loud colors like a lot of people associate it to be, but something just different or unusual," said Werner, a brother at Alpha Chi. Along those lines, are the Alpha Chi pledges' hats considered flair?
"First of all, they're called sirens. They're a source of house pride," Werner explained. "And it unifies the group -- the pledge class -- because we're the only people wearing them. It's a distinctive symbol, in that you can recognize another pledge from a mile away because you'll see the siren."
"But it's not flair -- it's not decoration," Werner emphasized. "The red is flair-y, as opposed to a less noticeable color, but it's not flair. The strong red color is a sign of virility."
[Insert overcompensation joke here].
"Hard-guy frats" appear to be perceived as the least flair-friendly social spaces on campus. Some of the indicted included Heorot, GDX and Theta Delt.
"[Flair is] definitely a confidence thing. The only guys who I can think of who wouldn't want to do it are uptight about their image or homophobic," said Steve Elliott '11, a pledge at SAE and a member of the rugby team. "I don't think [flair] has a stigma at all, but any bright, flamboyant type of dress is vaguely associated with homosexuality somehow,"
"SAE is not too big on flair in general," continued Elliott. "I really like flair personally. It really plays a role in my life without playing a role in any organization. I did just start rugby this year, so I developed a social consciousness here independent of rugby. Being a part of groups that aren't that big on flair, like rugby and SAE, makes me wanna wear it more."
"I see flair more in certain group affiliations than as a divide between males and females," added Elliott. Many agree, frequently citing the men's and women's ultimate frisbee teams as prime examples.
"On the ultimate team there are guys who wear skirts to practice every day, and during our big tournaments still wear skirts," explained Brown, a member of the team. But why stop at ultimate? Groups ranging from women's crew to the Rockapellas to forestry embrace the outrageousness.
Forestry? ESPN2, chopping down trees forestry? "A lot of us compete in flair," said Mann-O'Halloran, a member of the team. "We go to these forestry meets, and it's funny because it's full of big, burly-ass, New Hampshire lumberjacks, and they're all wearing the same steel-toed boots and big jackets and flannel, and we'll have guys up there competing in pink skirts."
Only at Dartmouth.
Erin is a writer for The Mirror.
