Satire: Free-spirited Ramblers Need Uniformity

The sky is falling, hell is empty and the worst of outfits are upon us. Can’t you see the horror?

Gaze at red graphics tees, brown wool sweaters, puffer jackets in September and flip-flops in February. We live in anarchy — uncontrolled madness on the Lakeshore Campus. 

No uniform clothing, but a kaleidoscope of every blustering shade and hue scarring my virgin eyes.

What have we become as an institution? We are proud Catholics. Well, almost half of Loyola’s students aren’t, and my family happens to be Protestant, but we have traditions to uphold.

Father Arnold Damen — founder of Loyola University Chicago and namesake of the highly acclaimed Damen Dining Hall — would be ashamed to witness students arriving to class in pajamas and Nike slides. He established the all-mens Jesuit college in 1870, so his Catholic flock could spread the good word, be able to focus solely on education while wearing the proper attire — no risk of unsightly distractions in those days — and, most importantly, to ensure future Loyola Presidents could make a boatload of money.

But as the Jesuits have always preached, the body must be as equipped as the mind. 

Recall the Latin Jesuit proverb, “cura personalis,” or “care for the whole person.” Merely showing up to class with all of the readings done isn’t enough. Any Jesuit who’s read the good book will readily preach how worshiping the material world is the key to salvation. And, any professor worth their salt will explain how dressing nicely constitutes at least half of the participation grade.

Now, what would this uniform look like? If Loyola’s Center for Student Engagement were to grant me a few thousand Rambler Bucks, then perhaps I could muster up a sketch, but I’m no fashion design major. 

Yet, some bystanders have commented on a piece of clothing I wear daily — which could qualify as a uniform. 

I don my Victorian-style nightgown even when the sun is out. I brave the mockery and side-eyes because I know my constant dress brings some order and peace to the Lakeshore Campus.

People have the gall to whisper “Ebeneezer Scrooge” behind my hunched back when I’m on my midnight stroll around campus, candle and holder in hand. They haven’t been in my slippers. They don’t know why I walk with this stride.

Putting the same decor on your body each day has numerous benefits. Forget about choosing which shirt matches your striped socks. Forget about thrifting through Chicago for the perfect pants. No longer labor over washing your clothes each week — the latter being optional, but a technique which has worked well for me.

This uniform life is a simpler one. Not contemplating color schemes gives students time to plan financially for their yearly donations to Loyola after graduation. Students may argue the mandatory addition of uniforms restricts their freedom of expression. They may complain how uniforms would be yet another exuberant fee hidden under the shade of a towering tuition. But have students considered the Loyola administration’s feelings? I didn’t think so.

School uniforms offer one significant benefit for all — order. With order, there’d be no need for protests or student government. With uniformity — I mean uniforms — the administration would view each student equally.

Student IDs would become useless plastic when students could be easily identified by their dress — and we all know Loyola loves to reduce waste.

Student IDs would become useless plastic when students could be easily identified by their dress — and we all know Loyola loves to reduce waste. There would be thousands of students, one people, wearing maroon and gold across Chicago. It’s an advertisement for the school, but the students would not only be paying for it — they would be it.