Here’s to you, frat stars. You handsome, sexy, handsome, dapper specimens. As a sorostitute, I don’t know how you do it–look so good every day. But I can speculate.
While the sorostitute dress code was conceived in the poorest-executed plan possible, frat stars had it right. The chief frat stars must have met in some basement, attic or dungeon sometime in the middle of the night where, after several handles of Evan Williams, some top-secret rituals involving physical abuse and humiliation, and just the slightest tinge of bromoeroticism, they put their heads together.
“Listen, bros. We need some tight clothes. And by tight I don’t mean tight-fitting. I mean tight as hell… like tiiiiight. You know? Like… clothes we can bro out in,” one said.
None truly followed what the frat star said, but everyone agreed nonetheless.
“Yeah brah, we need a wardrobe that’s a true investment. One that we can assure our moms that we’ll wear til we die once we convince them to take us to the Polo Ralph Lauren outlet,” one chimed in.
“Clothes we can shack in after a night out and wear the next day without anyone knowing the difference as long as they don’t notice the bar tar all over our khakis!” another exclaimed.
“Perfect! A wardrobe appropriate for General Beauregard’s, country clubs and nursing homes alike,” a frat star concluded mid-Natty chug.
And there it began.
The frat star’s dress code is a timeless enigma. Of course, it’s especially amplified here in the South at schools like UGA, where [if they aren’t too busy day-drinking] bros parade around campus like Athens is their town. In the case of some Old Row frat stars, that’s probably true. Regardless, they follow a specific bro creed that makes them all look the same.
By the time football season rolls around, a junior frat star (i.e. freshman) has graduated from Polo to George Gibson’s. He wears a tailor-made getup, which he accessorizes with the latest red and/or black or UGA-themed Southern Proper bow tie. From football season on, he wears bow ties and bow ties alone to all semi-formals, formals, and cocktail party-related date nights. If he does otherwise, he risks being unidentifiable as an honorary member of the frat star cult.
Only frat stars and Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens can pull off the bow tie. That’s saying something.
Speaking of old people, frat stars relish in the most bro-centered activities, and they like to show that off. And what’s more bro than golf? A frat star never wears denim, so he’s always prepared to walk into a country club; he might as well like golf. Even if frat stars hate golf, they love the Masters, because the Masters is played on an exclusive all-bro golf course. The Masters therefore provides frat stars with the frattiest accessories. Visors, polos, socks–anything Masters suits a bro like a good pair of New Balance sneakers.
Ah, yes. Visors. Hats without the hot part. With visors, frat stars once again liken themselves to an elite group of people. This time, instead of a retiring judge, they’re joined by women’s tennis players. A brilliant feat, I suppose?
Sometimes, though, the average frat star is tired of being average. He wants to get in touch with his roots as a man. He starts to rock climb, he goes on a hike, he drinks a Natty near a bonfire one time and he realizes, “Hey, I can be bro AND be outdoorsy at the same time!” These types of outdoorsy frat stars have developed the perfect hybrid of granola and prep chic. They wear visors, too, but Kavu ones:
Outdoor frat stars use carabiners. They wear Chacos and Patagonia fleeces with their khaki short-shorts. They have it all.
Other frat stars take looking fine and abusing substances to the next level. They’re the heady frat stars. They listen to Pretty Lights and jam bands, they played lacrosse in high school, and they hang out with the outdoorsy frat stars while they smoke weed in tents. They’re most excited for the Dazed and Confused social, so they can wear these shirts and smoke weed incognito.
All in all, heady frat stars love weed and everything that makes them look like they do. They let their hair grow slightly longer than the standard frat swoop. They’d be legitimate frat star rebels if there weren’t so many already like them.
Some days, all any frat star wants to do is porch drink, quote Entourage, and throw the football out on the frat house lawn. Of course, this requires an entirely different outfit from the norm because on these days it’s comfort first. Frat stars wear black tube socks that hit mid-shin, but only black ones, as frat stars can’t resemble the white sock-wearing GDI’s who want to be them. And when frat stars are outside in numbers, they feel invincible; they can even wear the same obnoxious tank tops made to fit their sorostitute gal pals and feel legit. Frat stars also don vintage snap-back hats with their casual ensembles, one of many throwback pieces which distinguish them as true bros.
It doesn’t matter if a frat star likes the team or not. It matters how ugly and old the hat looks. Hell, if the team on the hat no longer exists, a frat star is especially golden. The same goes for vintage jerseys in terms of bro cred: a frat star who finds a Hakeem Olajuwon Rockets jersey might as well be Frat Jesus, but a frat star who wears a Michael Jordan Bulls jersey is a puss and a poseur. Similar standards apply to normal t-shirts: they must be outdated and they must commemorate sporting events like the Atlanta Olympics or the Braves’ 1995 World Series victory. No frat star nowadays was old enough to remember the event at the time, but nowadays it sure makes him look like he witnessed greatness. Ugly jackets and collared shirts that go further back before a frat star’s birth are also perfect day drinking garb. Really, no article of clothing a frat star finds at Goodwill and wears for day drinking will look good on him, but somehow he makes it work.
To frat stars everywhere: I salute you. I don’t get you, but I like what you’re working with. Every single borderline alcoholic one of you.