Class Is out, classy is in

On another bustling Saturday night out, my best friend and I trudged through Gainesville’s lit-up streets toward the familiar string of hotspots —despite swearing them off just last weekend. Turning to me, she whispered, "Some girl just told me my top is giving ‘Tik Tok made me buy it.’ That literally makes me want to take this thing off my body and burn it right here." At this point, the fun of fashion was lost in the homogeneity: the same clubs, the same songs cutting off at the best part. Worst of all, hours spent getting ready only to disappear into a sea of identical outfits.

Once upon a time, going out meant slipping into your best dress, shining your shoes and commanding attention with every entrance. Whether it was the sleek elegance of Studio 54, the glitzy drama of early 2000s fashion or the effortless swagger of ‘90s supermodels, nightlife style used to be something to revel in. So when did we stop dressing up to celebrate our fleeting youth?

Priding ourselves on our independent style, my friend and I quickly realized how easily we had fallen into the cult of tiny tops and mini skirts. In this generation, going out tosses style aside in favor of wearing the least clothing to turn the most heads. But imagine stepping into a room, and heads turn, not because you are wearing the same oddly-cut top as everyone else, but because your outfit tells a story of the night you are about to have.

The personality we infuse into our style during the day should be no different from the one we exude into the night. Around campus, I see vibrant expressions of individualism—unconventional silhouettes, vintage pieces and elegant layering. These moments remind me how diverse tastes can be represented in ways that are both inspiring and authentic. Dressing up is a way of staying true to yourself, a form of self-expression that follows no rules but your own. The nights I remember most are not the ones where I blended into the crowd, but the ones where I felt completely like myself. The ones where my outfit told a story before I even opened my mouth. The ones where I was not just going out: I was showing up for a version of myself I was proud of.

Now is the time to show up for yourself. Beyond college, Saturday nights might look like sipping wine on intimate dates or nibbling on charcuterie at dinner parties. Those old, reliable going-out tops will sit untouched in your closet, collecting dust. The nights of flashing neon signs, crowded bars, and sticky floors will fade into a blur because, in hindsight, they all felt the same—music so loud you couldn’t hear your own thoughts, drinks that tasted more like sugar than anything else, and conversations that never lasted past last call. As sophisticated adults, we must start looking to trade our vodka crans for Cosmopolitans and flimsy fabric for timeless pieces that showcase our distinct styles.

Fortunately, the reintroduction of cocktail attire does not have to mean stiff, extravagant outfits. It is about small choices that make a difference: swapping the classic mini for a statement skirt that flows with you or layering a sleek blazer over a slip dress for a polished look. A vintage clutch or a pair of rain boots can turn something ordinary into something unforgettable. It is not about being different just for the sake of it. It is about reclaiming style as a reflection of who you are, not what others want you to be.

Walking home that night, my best friend and I surveyed the slew of people swaying toward the direction of their apartments. Feet aching, wishing we had brought a jacket for the sudden wind chill, we noted the differences among them. We couldn’t shake the feeling that the night had been another unsatisfying loop of routine. Just as we began making another pact to stay in next weekend, a striking distinction appeared before us—a couple strolling a few feet ahead. Hands tangled together, shoulders drawn back, their regal outfits set them apart as bold and confident. His freshly pressed linen shirt and rich mocha slacks trailed seamlessly next to her ruffled black dress, draped with a 1970s Penny Lane coat. They looked ahead, unfazed, walking with the kind of self-assured style we suddenly craved.

I exhaled, turning to my friend. "This isn't it," I admitted. "Next time, we aren’t just going out. We’re showing up. The minute class is out, classy is in."

Strike Out,

Writer: Ria Pai

Editor: Olivia Evans

Ria Pai is a writer for Strike Magazine GNV. She starts her day with copious amounts of coffee and ends it laying in bed thinking of witty comebacks to unlikely scenarios. During the interim, she enjoys making elaborate meals for the people she loves, ranting about the same three topics in her journal and never skipping leg day. You can reach her on Instagram @veryberrypai, or by email at pairiaraj@gmail.com.

When did “I like you,” become taboo?

Navy Is The New Black