I was sitting in the top row of a lecture hall class at Wichita State the other day when I looked down at the heads in front of me and had an epiphany. In midwinter, I was staring at a sea of baseball caps. Dozens of them were speckled throughout the classroom. Most were worn with a complementary pair of stylin’ sweatpants. Charming.  

But I was confused. There wasn’t a ball game around, and the sun was behind the clouds (why else would people wear baseball caps?). At that moment, the true reason for the getup rang like a chorus of angels dressed in ripped jeans and sporting $5 haircuts. The only reason for the sloppy dress was this: I live in Wichita.

I spent last semester studying abroad in Bulgaria, so I can tell you that our dress code is not kosher on international campuses. Ironically, it seems that in poorer countries students dress more sharply to compensate for their lower economic status. There’s high heels in statistics class, sequins at lunch and suspenders in the dorms- these students take dressing for success to a new level. 

You can imagine my shock when I discovered that my tried and true blue jeans no longer made the cut for class (pun intended). Bulgarians judge you based on your appearance, and you get used to being X-rayed from head to toe by total strangers. Waitresses, mechanics and engineers are all expected to follow the same standard of personal appearance. You dress for the job you want, and you certainly dress to impress.  

Upon returning to Wichita, I was hit by a second wave of shock when I rediscovered the sweatpant/baseball cap combo uniform on campus. I chalk it up to Wichita’s culture—there’s simply no other justification. The excuse can’t be economic, because even Target-brand clothes have style. And shortage of time to get ready isn’t to blame, because it doesn’t take longer to throw on a pair of jeans and a nice top than it does to slip into your favorite snowman pajamas. 

Maybe it’s also that Wichitans are too down-to-earth to judge on first glance, but are unmaterialistic enough to value a meaningful conversation more than a pair of nice shoes. Then there’s the simple truth: we just plain love being comfortable. And comfort means more than wearing fleece pants- it’s found in matching the skin worn by those around us. In Wichita, that skin is generic cotton in shades of gray.

Wichita dress is depressing. What you put on your body speaks to how you value yourself, and it influences how you’re perceived. Sweatpants say that we don’t care about either of these things. So come on, Wichita, let’s kick it up a notch. 

Jeggings, anyone?