Back-to-School Chic (for Grown-Ups Who Still Take Notes in Margins)
- At Deya
- 1 day ago
- 4 min read

Back-to-School Chic (for Grown-Ups Who Still Take Notes in Margins)
“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald
The September Shift
There’s something about September that smells like sharpened pencils and new beginnings even when you’re thirty-five and your “locker” is an inbox with 2,147 unread emails.
The air cools, the light slants, and suddenly you crave structure, stationery, and maybe a plaid skirt (tastefully hemmed, of course).
We call it Back-to-School Chic, but really, it’s nostalgia disguised as aesthetic discipline the adult urge to get your life together by buying a new tote and pretending it’s for your “course load.”
“It’s the adult urge to get your life together by buying a new tote and pretending it’s for your ‘course load.’”

The Re-Enrolment of the Soul
You don’t have to be enrolled anywhere to feel the thrill of syllabi and syllogisms. Every September whispers: You could still become that person who color-codes their calendar.
Back-to-School Chic isn’t about nostalgia for youth; it’s about 'curiosity as continuity.' It’s about honoring the part of yourself that still gets butterflies at the sight of a bookstore display.
The syllabus is your life now.

The Aesthetics of Academia, Reimagined
Think of 'Back-to-School Chic' as the wardrobe equivalent of a philosophy seminar that somehow smells like bergamot.
The Blazer — double-breasted, structured, thrifted from someone’s stylish aunt, with gold buttons that wink like punctuation marks.
The Loafer — sensible, subversive, and just self-aware enough.
The Tote Bag — portable archive of identity: MacBook, novel, croissant, existential dread.
The Sweater Vest — revived, ironic, and occasionally brilliant.
Palette: muted neutrals punctuated with scholastic tones — ink black, library green, oxblood, paper-tan.

Study Hall, but Make It Sartorial
Oscar Wilde said, “You can never be overdressed or overeducated.”
He’d certainly approve of a trench coat paired with intellectual bravado.
“Confidence with caffeine. A look that says: I annotate both books and my emotions.”
Picture this:
Navy pleated skirt + cashmere sweater.
Wire-rimmed glasses, prescription optional.
Rings that look like they came from a professor with impeccable taste and questionable ethics.
It’s confidence with caffeine, self-expression with a syllabus.

Pop Culture References 101
Rory Gilmore walked so every cardigan-loving millennial could briskly stroll through a farmer’s market with tote in hand.
The Devil Wears Prada gave us sleek academic edge.
Normal People made collegiate melancholy an aesthetic.
Dead Poets Society paired rebellion with tweed.
Mona Lisa Smile reminded us: women who think are always in style.
“I’ve outgrown prep, but not purpose.”

The New Classroom: Cafés and Coworking Corners
Our modern “campuses” are independent coffee shops with Wi-Fi and existential playlists.
Between oat-milk lattes and Google Docs, we’ve reinvented the seminar table, complete with group chats and quiet ambition.
Style Syllabus:
Oversized blazer + jeans → “I’m writing something important (eventually).”
Turtleneck + messy bun → “I have opinions about Susan Sontag.”
Trench coat + tote → “I’m in my productivity arc.”

The Accessories Department (a.k.a. Extra Credit)
The difference between “I threw this on” and “I curated this” is often one accessory.
Fountain pen — even for grocery lists.
Leather notebook — because handwriting is for ideas.
Scarf — worn like a thesis statement.
Reading glasses — aesthetic, not medical.
“She didn’t specify the outfit, but one suspects Anne Sexton would approve of corduroy.”
Anne Sexton once wrote, “Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.”³

Elective Courses: Curiosity, Confidence, Becoming
Here’s the real secret: Back-to-School Chic isn’t about fashion.
It’s about choosing curiosity over cynicism.
It’s about becoming the kind of adult who still gets giddy at the smell of new books.
The blazer isn’t just structured, it’s symbolic.
The loafers ground you.
The scarf softens the edges of modern life.

Homework for the Season
Relearn what it means to dress for 'becoming.'
Curate your own curriculum of curiosity:
Read Baldwin and Didion.
Walk with purpose.
Listen to jazz while journaling.
Buy the coat that makes you feel like a thesis in motion.
Because maybe the grown-up version of school isn’t about passing exams, it’s about staying awake.
Buy the blazer. Sharpen the pencil. Open the book.
The semester of 'you' has officially begun.


Notes & References
1. F. Scott Fitzgerald, 'The Great Gatsby'(1925).
2. Oscar Wilde, 'A Woman of No Importance' (1893).
3. Anne Sexton, 'The Awful Rowing Toward God' (1975).
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