My social media algorithm has successfully tracked my profile closely enough to have figured out where I study. To my regret. For every now and then, I’ll be confronted with yet another bird’s-eye view of central Oxford glistening at sunset, or an edit of a glorified study session in Duke Humfrey’s library.
I often find my feed accosted with these montages of Oxford life, with the formal dinner being a classic. A short clip will introduce a carefully crafted montage of a candle-lit dining hall, proudly gowned students, and the evening’s luxurious menu. A recent video featuring Keble Hall encouraged the viewer to “imagine walking into a hall so long you can barely see the end of it. Candles everywhere, everyone in black robes. The waiters looking like they’ve been doing this since 1887”. They are paired with statements such as ‘come with me to the fanciest dinner ever’, or worse yet, framed as a ‘POV’. “POV: you are studying at the world’s second oldest university” or “POV: Oxford students on a Wednesday night”. These captions are followed by the same sequence of an ornate room full of chatter, clinking glasses, and tailcoats, all set to a trending audio to polish off this curated atmosphere. It frames life in Oxford like a film reel, where every interaction is one of intellect and every evening one of extravagance.
I suppose it sounds enticing, especially to those who do not attend Oxford. Does it feel completely familiar? Not at all. These videos desperately lack any kind of nuance, especially in how they project student experience. They contain dregs of truth amongst what is mostly a fabricated existence, abandoning any personal insight in pursuit of the same generic presentation of Oxford’s ‘hallowed halls’. The content drools over the ‘aesthetic’ of academia or what it would feel like to be an esteemed guest at these exclusive dinners; they are snapshots that glorify opulence, venerating what they and the viewer romanticise as the peak of sophistication.
This leads to a particular grievance of mine, which is the Oxford ‘influencers’ – those who create content that thrives and capitalises on a purely idealistic version of the institution they study at. Accounts such as @observingoxford chase after this ‘aesthetic’ in their endless snapshots of Radcliffe Square and the Bodleian Libraries, making out that every moment, every walk down the street, every study session is made of magic. These content creators participate in a strange kind of tourism of their own lives. When I see Meagan Loyst’s edit of Christ Church ball, I can’t help but feel that the 1.1 million people who have liked the post have been done an injustice. It presents an enchanting evening of ballgowns and bubbles, all set to Michael Bublé’s ‘Feeling Good’ for a little extra dose of (what is perceived to be) perfection. Yet there is something forced, and dare I say cringeworthy, about filming yourself and self-consciously documenting your experience for the viewer. Having attended this ball myself, I am again struck by how little personality or actual insight brought to these representations in favour of this imaginary world.
The effect of this illusion is confirmed by the awestruck comments that idealise Oxford as their dream university. I would go so far as to say that an injustice is done to the University itself, reduced to an image that compacts its wealth of history, beautiful architecture and impressive events (as well as the reality of admissions and its reputation as a world-class centre of teaching and research) into this ‘aesthetic’. These viral videos feed off this perceived perfection, and even assume the viewer’s desire to one day attend themselves.
I do not mean to say that Oxford is not full of incredibly unique experiences, traditions and opportunities – it is an undeniably special place. Perhaps my sentiments stem from my impartiality towards my own experience of Oxford. I never romanticised Oxford when applying, and now that I’m here, I often find Oxford to be a beautiful yet self-satisfied and overwhelming city. As much as I’ve tried to feel at home here, I find it impossible to be constantly enamoured or consumed with wonder – if I were to be so, I would have to remove myself from my experience of the place. I feel guilty when people back in London question me about Oxford and assume it must be glorious. The reality, however, is that, at least for me, the city of Oxford is a place I’ve taken a long time to grow used to and still am not fully able to give my heart to. I greatly appreciate studying at Oxford, yet I have never found it to be a place where I feel at peace. I can’t, nor do I desire to, discard my personal preferences and blindly throw my affection towards where I end up studying; prestige changes nothing. Crucially, I don’t think a student’s experience should be one that buys into this generic ‘aesthetic’ or an expected all-encompassing love for Oxford, but rather a compromise between lived experience, individual personality and all that Oxford has to offer.
Perhaps I’m too harsh. Perhaps these influencers merely perceive Oxford differently from me, and I should appreciate their apparent overwhelming adoration. Perhaps their experience is different to mine, given that most of these influencers are postgraduates. Yet I still can’t help but wince at the all-consuming My Oxford Year taint to it all. I would expect their attitude to be that of a tourist, or a film director – not of a student. Surely there’s more to their time here than this – how can one produce such unnuanced content of their own lived experience? Surely they don’t still see Christ Church as the “Harry Potter hall”, or gowned students matriculating as a fantastical procession – it does Oxford’s much more interesting reality an injustice.
My stance is not one of pessimism, but actually a plea for the individuality of student experience, both in our own attitudes and social media content, to be championed. The holistic nature of one’s personal journey in Oxford is largely unspoken about. Students’ lives here should comprise both the individual and the institution: there is a beauty to this that is much more captivating than living in an ‘aesthetic’. In fact, if we play this game of stereotyping Oxford, surely the plethora of endlessly intellectual and individually minded students that it’s renowned for can do more than just generically idolise where they study. Otherwise, there’s a danger of becoming just a faceless figure in a tailcoat, sipping champagne behind a phone screen.
