While preparing to come to the University of Oxford, I’ll admit, I was less than thrilled. But my fantastic time here has provided me with a valuable life lesson, namely that preconceived notions are not always accurate.
You see, I thought that Oxford would be nothing but a bunch of boring intellectuals, always running off to study some banal political issue at the library that they never stop yapping about afterwards, completely incapable of having that good time that we at UT are famous for.
Imagine my surprise, and great joy, then, upon discovering that most Oxford students would find themselves at home on a Thursday night in Ybor City or a Friday at The Mousetrap! They have their priorities straight after all; they all prefer a good time over a good book.
Before jumping with full force into the Oxford social scene, however, I did have to make some adjustments. Though I am the self-proclaimed King of Ybor, things are done a bit differently here. The students are more affluent (if readers will believe that), and thus the social activities are escalated a degree. Luckily, my housemate was quick to introduce me to shopping, the principal expression of social life in Oxford.
Now, as a guy who previously considered dressing up as consisting of a collared shirt and sweatpants, the first step into that department store opened a whole new world for me. It was as though I was taken to a buffet table of the finest products that starvation wages could proffer. And much like a buffet, price was not a consideration. In fact, the more money you spent, the better, since I was informed that the object of shopping was to purchase anything that would show that you outspent your student counterparts.
I tried to make use of my cherished logic to achieve this aim. Before long I had the answer. What would better prove that you were spending more money than your competitors than buying excessive amounts of accessories for which you’ve absolutely no need? With this in mind I rushed towards boots and bags, simultaneously the two most expensive and the two most useless commodities in Oxford!
Convinced that I had won, I was ready to make my debut on the Oxford social scene. But much to my chagrin, I quickly learned that nearly everyone in Oxford had already figured out the boots and bags secret. I walked down the street in rage as I saw girl after girl flaunting their superfluous boots and ridiculously oversized bags, each one more repetitive, useless and therefore more expensive than the last! Tenaciously, I would not admit defeat. I needed to find an edge, and my housemate told me exactly where I could find it.
After an hour and a half bus ride, I had completed the shopper’s Hajj. I had arrived in Mecca, otherwise known as Harrods department store in central London. With over a million square feet of selling space, I knew that I had finally found my edge. My suspicions were only confirmed when I asked a clerk where the works of Victor Hugo could be found and was pointed to the newest fragrance from Hugo Boss.
The boots and bags at Harrods exceeded my wildest expectations. Not only did they look far more absurd than ones in Oxford, but they were of even less practical use and far more expensive. A friendly clerk assured my success. He told me that the trick was to buy as many boots and bags as possible, with each new set being distinguishable enough that people will know that you have different pairs, yet repetitive enough that everyone will realize that you have absolutely no reason to be spending all of that money.
Running back to Oxford with my arms full of boots and bags, I finally made it on the social scene. Later on that week I accidentally stumbled into a library for the first time, and I realized that the bags could actually serve a practical use by transporting books that are too cumbersome to read in the library. Immediately I was worried that if this became known, the bags would lose their extravagance, their value on the social scene would plummet and all of my efforts would have been in vain.
Thankfully, other students have realized this before me, and thus a tacit agreement has been made to never ruin the value of our bags by entering a library. Armed with a formidable collection of boots and bags and freed from the worries of any studying, I can’t wait to spend my last few weeks here by finally joining my fellow Oxfordians on the social scene in peace.