Friday, May 23, 2025
Blog Page 111

The diary of a LinkdIn-er

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I’m happy to share … excited to announce … pleased to declare … that I’m more successful than you.

My attention was first brought to LinkedIn when I was 16 by an alumna of my college, who told me to download it to “network”. I did, mainly because she had an apprenticeship at a great law firm in Manchester, but didn’t listen to her advice of reaching out to people to gain experience. Instead, I filled out my profile and spammed a few of my friends who were already on the app with automated messages. But on arriving in Oxford, and being (for better or worse) exposed to the cult of the university’s finance bros, I started taking it more seriously.

LinkedIn is an employment-focused social media platform that works almost like an interactive CV, where you can showcase your experiences and skills to potential employers or your peers. Similar to many social media platforms, LinkedIn allows you to ‘connect’ with other users, post about your experiences or thoughts, and interact with the accounts and content of others, such as your fellow students, potential employers, organisations, or maybe even your crush… This essentially makes the platform a far-reaching networking opportunity, but also a space for exploring your interests.

Yet for some it is developing a bad reputation. Your LinkedIn feed can often be a reminder of the amazing opportunities other people have accessed. When I load LinkedIn and spot someone’s latest ‘excited to announce’ post for an internship at a massive company, I am happy for them, because I know they must have worked hard for it. But the site can also be a reminder of how behind I feel. The pressure to apply for and secure a spring week, vac scheme or internship at a flashy firm is as immense as it is competitive, and there is a feeling that if you don’t manage to get one, you subsequently won’t get a foothold in the industry or a big-name company. 

It’s a toxic headspace, worsened by Oxford’s culture of over-workers and high-achievers, and one that makes a platform like LinkedIn become almost a self-flagellatory space of comparison. Of course, by leaving the university’s internship bubble and speaking to most professionals in their respective industries, you will hear how things like internships (whilst a brilliant experience) are not really necessary. There are plenty of other ways to gain experience. And one way to find those is through LinkedIn.

The best thing to do in repsonse to this feeling of constant comparison, perhaps easier said than done, is to try to burst this pressurised bubble. Stop idly scrolling on your Linkedin homepage. Instead, be smart about how you use it. Connect with people in industries you are interested in, or at companies you would like to work at, look at what experience they gained early on, and see how you could try and emulate this. I myself have messaged people in positions which I have applied to for advice, and been sent some great tips in preparation for interviews I was stressed for. I’ve even given my interviewer a cheeky stalk to see what kind of interests they have themselves  (It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.) I recently found a job on LinkedIn at an exciting start-up dating app, just by messaging someone who posted about the position – something I wouldn’t have done if I had let the imposter-syndrome the app can breed drive me away.

It is important to remember the benefits of the app, and to take advantage of them. LinkedIn also has a section where they recommend you positions based on the experience listed on your profile, and you can follow companies, non-profit organisations, and public figures to see what they are doing, making it a great resource for staying up-to-date with anything big going on or application deadlines. Looking at what your peers are doing, whilst terrible for causing anxiety if you don’t have the same level of experience, is also really useful. You can check what people in similar positions to you are doing, and maybe find an online course or be alerted to some work experience you could also sign up for. For those so inclined, you could also just browse the profile of someone you’re less than fond of  and see their lack-of experience as a pick me up; call it the Linkedin mindset. I’ve even been the recipient of some very questionable flirting on LinkedIn, when someone I was dating endorsed all my experiences…

So, it’s a great resource, but it’s also just an app. You don’t have to be a hard-core LinkedIn influencer with motivational posts every other day, you can use it for what it was designed for: to network. Meet new people, ask them questions, share your own experiences, and learn about work experience, jobs, and industries. Don’t let what others are doing bog you down. Reading about the achievements of your peers can be a good thing: let it bring out your competitive streak and help you to stay focused on your own goals.

Behind the striped veil of OURC: What rifling’s really like.

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I have received my full share of facial expressions when I mention that I do rifle shooting, including surprise, fascination, and of course an element of concern. I have learnt to expect the question “But what are you shooting?”. I answer “no, we do not shoot living animals or humans, and no, it is not clay-pigeon.” We are currently half-way through the smallbore season, in which we use .22 calibre rifles, shooting unmoving black dots on pieces of card, 25 yards away. The smallbore category can be shot up to 100 metres. The fullbore category, up to 1200. Larger rifles, larger ammunition, and shot outside in our somewhat dubious British summers. 

Oxford University Rifle Club (OURC) was founded in August 1859 and the first varsity match was shot in 1862. Last year the club took some massive steps forwards, especially impressive after the challenges of COVID-19. I was selected for the smallbore Blues team in my first year at Oxford, having already shot before university, and managed to achieve my Half Blue award at the Heslop varsity match. I was one of four to get their Half Blue that day, and two more joined us with the Chancellors and Humphrey fullbore varsities a few months later. Oxford won the Chancellors match with our team of eight, as well as the Bentata varsity, consisting of a team of the first four women. This win was the first since 2016 and the first double varsity win in over twenty years. Coupled with our work alongside This Girl Can and developing OURC’s accessibility for visually impaired shooters, these accomplishments led us to win the Sports Club of the Year 2022-23. To shed some light on our world, from socials to stereotypes, I will delve into life within OURC. 

Shooting typically consists of lying in a prone position on the ground, with the rifle resting on your left hand and lodged into your right shoulder (vice-versa for left-handers). To support this position, the shooter wears a specific jacket and a sling which attaches to the rifle, allowing their left arm to relax in position and not physically hold it up. If the sling is not sitting in the right place whilst shooting, you can tell by how your hand turns quite a lovely shade of purple due to a lack of blood. Similarly, if the left elbow is not placed correctly below the rifle, or if the sling is too loose, the rifle will sink to the left or right. Even your heartbeat will affect your scores. A 1 mm movement of the athlete in position can cause a loss of two points at 25 yards. One determined fresher this year said: “In principle, it seems easy. But there is always something which makes it go wrong”.

The goal? To hit as close to the middle of the black dot as possible, ten times in a row. A shot in the middle without breaking the line is ten points. To achieve a maximum score of 100 is extremely impressive and rare to see, even amongst the Blues team. To score a Full Blue score, you must shoot two of these cards and achieve 195 or over in a varsity match (that is an average of 97.5 per card) and do the equivalent in fullbore a few months later. When asked about his series of magnificent scores which led to his full blue award, James Oakland, our only current Full Blue member in OURC, said “I’d like to say: ‘ah I’m the best, I’ve got a full blue’ and be so smug about it. But I got lucky, you know, 197 in the Heslop that year. I’ve never shot that well since. I’ve never shot that well before. I got lucky to get it.” 

Yet when you consider that he was making himself shoot around fifteen times per week, ‘luck’ cannot have been the most important factor in his scores. He would “wake up each morning and spend twenty minutes of mindfulness, just sort of relaxing. The other thing a lot of people do is when they go out for their runs, that’s when they’re picturing themselves shooting, because that’s when your heart rate is at an elevated position which is what it’s going to be whilst shooting, and that’s what you need to be focusing on… That’s easy to do – if you can be bothered.” In my own ten years of shooting, the self-discipline required to get consistently high scores is the most difficult part of the sport. A clear head is something which athletes from all sports will say, but the irony of this sport is that you must also retain a low heart rate. 

When training from day to day, I have also found that it’s hard to know when to stop. Despite the physical strains on the body seeming minimal during a shoot, it takes a lot out of the athlete. The more you shoot, the more your muscles become tired.

Another thing that comes with this sport are certain preconceptions and stereotypes. In her efforts to take the club to the next level, Asia put it perfectly that “shooting can have negative connotations with the words ‘shoot’ and ‘gun’, and that really doesn’t reflect what we do. It’s actually a very relaxed sport, and I wanted people to see that and to see the character of OURC”. She highlights the importance of showing “how much fun we all have, what a lovely cohesive group of people it is” through posting on social media. Posting about socials, dinners, and successes have brought our family of alumni and students even closer together. 

Someone last year said to me that she wanted to join OURC but was scared because she thought shooting was a man’s sport. This stereotype does exist, and the predominance of men in older generations of the community is clear. However, this is certainly no longer the case. Seonaid Macintosh and Katie Gleeson, GB smallbore shots, are using social media to change this stereotype and share the sport with younger generations of shooters.. Last year, OURC worked alongside This Girl Can, a campaign started in 2015 aimed at increasing inclusion for women within sport. Asia, now in her second year as President of OURC, spoke to me about her experiences as a woman: “I started shooting because someone told me that I’d never hit the target because I was a girl. I proved them wrong and pin-holed three shots to a tin can.” Now, half of the committee of OURC, and half of the first team are women. 

When OURC won the Bentata varsity last year, I remember seeing Asia welling up out of sheer pride for the club’s achievements. She adds about the Chancellors match: “to have that moment when the winner was announced, I don’t know if you remember, but I had a million people shaking me and screaming, and I just… I hadn’t taken my shooting jacket off for about an hour, I was so stunned at the result.” 

Aiming to experience more moments like these this year, everyone at OURC is training extremely hard to be at their best and shoe those tabs in the upcoming varsities. New equipment, made possible by several amazing Oxford alumni contributions, and new faces in the club mean that OURC will continue to flourish for many years to come. Perhaps even a few readers will now want to be part of that future and give the sport a try next academic year. 

Oh, do you know them on a first name basis?

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Why we do, but shouldn’t, call politicians by their first names.

References to politicians by their first names always occurred in conversations at the pub or debates at an ‘afters’ I was a part of. Yet, when I first began to rethink this habit, I was sat two metres of away from one of its key perpetrators. Hearing Senator Bernie Sanders speak in the hallowed chamber of the Oxford Union in Hilary 2022, his croaky voice bouncing off the equally deteriorating walls, as he reached for his scrunched-up tissue used to stifle a runny nose, made be believe I might really know this man on a first name basis. His passionate oratory moved me, and many others that day; I left with a profound sense that I really ‘got’ him, I knew him, he was Bernie.

Connections between the political class and the electorate is an essential method in compelling voters to tune in to the decisions that manifestly affect their daily lives. Therefore, inviting the populace to ‘know’ their politicians on a first-name basis is an effective strategy in securing this association.  

We see these para-social relationships form all the time. A banner strewn across Stamford Bridge reads ‘Chelsea: our religion’, while some members of the ‘Beyhive’ actually do believe that Beyonce is their ‘bestie’. People crave to feel connected to something bigger or more important than them; it is probably one of the only things that football hooligans and avid listeners of ‘Single Ladies’ share!

I left the Union, with a few similarly inspired pals of mine, and ventured to Gloucester Green, to get a slightly-above-average noodle dish, as the awe of the occasion wore off a little. I began to re-evaluate my insistence I knew the Senator, more than ever before, by his first name. I thought about which other famous figures I might also know by their first name: Adele, Drake (although his first name, Aubrey, has been sneakily forgotten, much like the next name on this list), and, of course, Boris.

Suddenly, I was not so keen on the idea that I might call some of these powerful, influential, and charismatic figures by their first name. We call our friends by their first names because we share memories with them, we know their greatest secrets and, because we usually don’t share a football pitch with them, where there might be a slightly greater tendency to call them by their surname and add the ‘-o’ suffix at the end. (As a side note, I’m still waiting on the day someone shouts ‘Robbo’ at me to pass them the ball – the world will be better place once this happens.)

When we call our friends, peers, or acquaintances by their first name, there is a recognition there that we actually ‘know’ that person and therefore might be able to give them more sympathy during a tricky period or support them when they make mistakes.

We behave differently with politicians. Our political system requires us to hold them to account in a way we wouldn’t our friends. In a functioning democracy politicians are challenged, so they truly serve their communities and are held responsible for the decisions they make.

We might do this more easily if we rejected this familiar attachment we have to these figures. As I have tried to re-wire my brain to know ‘Bernie’ as Senator Sanders or ‘Boris’ as Boris Johnson, I am less forgiving.

For Senator Sanders, I found his answer to the issue of climate change at the Oxford Union followed a similar pattern to many of the older generation: a slightly patronising and wilfully unsophisticated claim along the lines of ‘Oh, you young people are smart, you will figure it out’.

For Boris Johnson, his once shiny veneer as a bumbling, affable, ‘doofus’, which albeit has already deteriorated significantly,  looks even more like a rusty façade, hiding a calculated, performatively incompetent, political opportunist.

Now, I’m not suggesting we all start calling Drake ‘Aubrey Graham’ from this moment on, but I think it is important to apply a cynicism to the famous folk, particularly with political power, who push the idea that we should all know them by their first name.

For the majority of these first-named politicians, it is an explicit campaign tactic. In the case of ‘Hillary’, or more appropriately Hillary Clinton, using her first name was “actively encouraged” by her campaign.

Similarly, in the self-proclaimed “hilarious election advert” posted by the Conservatives’ YouTube channel in 2019, Mr Johnson is referred to by the interviewer as ‘Boris’ within the first four seconds.

As a result, it is our critical judgement that falls victim, because we supposedly know these powerful political figures in a different way – they become more of a friendly face, and therefore we apply a different, more attainable standard by which we evaluate them.

In fact, as I thought to the times I have fallen for this political ploy, I remembered that I even own a T-shirt from Senator Sanders’ 2016 campaign embossed with ‘Tío [Uncle] Bernie’ on the front, when I know, or at least the last time I checked, the 82-year-old Brooklyn-born politician is definitely not my uncle. (If he is, that’s a lot of Christmases in which I have missed the opportunity to convince him into wearing a Santa costume.)

Ultimately, we must try to resist the temptation, and call politicians by their full names, to help ensure they remain responsible for the immense power they hold and what they choose to do with it.

Oxford Union has no confidence in the United Nations

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On Thursday night, the Oxford Union voted in favour of the motion “This House Has No Confidence in the United Nations.” The final count had 148 members voting for the motion and 90 members voting against. 

Craig Mokhiber, the former UN official whose resignation over the UN’s stance on the Israel-Gaza War garnered international attention late last October, and Sir Geoffrey Nice, the lead prosecutor at the trial of Slobodan Milošević and current chair of the China and Uyghur Tribunals, spoke for the motion. Joining Mokhiber and Nice were first-year History student Ben Murphy and first-year Chemistry student James MacKenzie.

Opposing the motion were Angela Kane, former UN High Representative for Disarmament Affairs and UN Undersecretary for Management; The Lord Hannay of Chiswick, a British diplomat who previously held the position of Permanent Representative to the EU and to the UN; and UK Deputy Permanent Representative to the UN James Kariuki. Masters student Shaezmina Khan also opposed the motion.

Ben Murphy opened the case for the proposition by stating that, although the UN was founded with a “clear promise of peace and justice,” it has since become a “utopian fantasy that cannot be achieved.” He argued the very idea of a unified group of nations was illusory since countries have different and often competing interests. 

Murphy then asked the audience to consider the UN from the perspective of a Cambodian living under the Khmer Rouge, a group he said was legitimised by the UN. He argued that the UN is not an enforcer of peace but an enabler of strife, as shown by such autocratic regimes it legitimises and by the belligerence of its “big five” members: France, Russia, China, the United Kingdom, and the United States. “The founding countries, those central to its development, the big five, have had their part in more conflict than the rest of the world together.”

Opening the case for the opposition, Shaezmina Khan focused on the semantics of the motion, arguing that “to vote for opposition, you only need to believe you have some confidence in the UN.” She cited past UN contributions – such as UNICEF’s vaccination programmes and the UN’s Non-Proliferation Treaty – and averred that the UN has served the world better than most people realise. 

She closed her speech with a quote from John F. Kennedy: “I see little merit in the impatience of those who would abandon this imperfect world instrument because they dislike our imperfect world. For the troubles of a world organisation merely reflect the troubles of the world itself.”

The second speaker for the proposition, Sir Geoffrey Nice, argued that the core purpose of the United Nations was to put an end to war and ensure “disputes between nations should be resolved by peaceful means” – a purpose which he believes has been abandoned.

Central to Nice’s argument was the failure of the United Nations to prevent the crime of genocide. He stated that the Genocide Convention requires participating states in Article I to “act to prevent genocide, wherever whenever it happens, anywhere on the globe.” He paused before asking the audience: “In 70 years, how many times has any government done that?” According to Nice, “excluding the cases of Zambia with Myanmar and South Africa with Israel,” the answer was “none.”

He cited the case of Rwanda, where the British deliberately avoided the term “genocide,” and the case of Bosnia, where he said the United Nations was “conveniently absent,” before stating forcefully: “This sort of thing has to stop.” Responding to the first proposition speaker’s clarification of terms, he told the audience: “Disregard the semantics, we know what the motion really means… Do you have confidence that you, your children, and grandchildren won’t be at war?”

James Kariuki continued the case for the opposition. He acknowledged some of the shortcomings of the UN but asked the audience “when the critics blame the UN for the world’s ills, who exactly do they blame?” He argued it was misguided to believe that the representatives from different member states were capable of solving all the problems around the globe. According to Kariuki, “The complaints about the UN reflect dissatisfaction with the world as it is.”

Kariuki touched on the UN’s role in eradicating polio through mass inoculation, combating climate change through environmental regulation, and promoting human rights through the Universal Declaration of Human Rights – which he described as a “monumental achievement.”  Toward the end of his speech, he stated that the 80 years before the establishment of the UN were worse than the 80 years since.

Continuing the case for the proposition, James MacKenzie cited the failure of the UN to respond to humanitarian crises and to fulfil its charter on social development. He argued that the policy of veto in the Security Council “undermines the very principles UN claims to uphold: Equality, justice, and the right to self-determination.” The UN, MacKenzie stated, has devolved into a geo-political chessboard, demonstrated by the lack of response “to the ongoing humanitarian crisis in Yemen and the ethnic cleansing in Myanmar.” He asked the audience how many more cases we would require in order to see “the UN is failing in its fundamental duty.”

Angela Kane, the third opposition speaker, drew on her own experience working at the UN. She touched on the success of the UN in tackling climate change and helping hundreds of millions of people throughout the world receive aid. She cited an opinion poll conducted in 24 countries which revealed that, on average, 63% of people see the United Nations in a positive light. Kane emphasised the importance of international treaties, which allow us to hold states to account, stating: “The UN works for the world, it works for the people.”

Closing the case for the proposition, Craig Mokhiber began by stating: “I think it should be clear by now that the House should have no confidence in the UN.” He clarified that this was not meant as a critique of the idea of the UN, nor was it meant as a critique of the people who have dedicated their lives to the mission of the UN. Rather, it was a critique of bodies like the Security Council which, Mokhiber argued, had abandoned the mission of the UN.

He discussed the UN Charter and told the audience that, 75 years later, we are still waiting for its fulfilment. Mocking a remark made by the opposition that “The UN is not made to deliver us to heaven, but merely to save us from hell,” he encouraged the audience to ask people in Bosnia, Myanmar, Sri Lanka, Gaza, and Syria whether the United Nations has protected them from war crimes and crimes against humanity: “Should the abandoned people of the United Nations have confidence in the United Nations?”

Lord Hannay of Chiswick closed the case for the opposition. He began by stating that almost everything had been said already and the debate, and his job would instead be to recapitulate some central reasons for opposing the motion.

According to Hannay, nobody on the opposition side was suggesting that the UN had accomplished all of its objectives. Rather, because of the soundness of the principles enumerated in the UN Charter and the UN Declaration of Human Rights, the opposition was emphasising the importance of working to fulfil the mission of the UN. To those who would abandon the UN, Hannay prophesied: “If we walk away from it, we will rue the day.”

He conceded that some member states were not acting perfectly but argued that the UN was needed to preserve norm-based international order. He concluded by stressing the importance of the UN and was met with a great deal of applause in the chamber.

Immersive, seductive, orgasmic: review of The Bacchae

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Inhale, exhale. The beating drum sounds louder as I walk further into the Keble O’Reilly. Turning left into the auditorium, I find the source of the entrancing rhythm. An interlacing circle of maenads obstructs the path to my seat: they pant to Dionysus’ drumming and their presence onstage makes me wonder if I’ve accidentally turned up late. 

Euripides’ The Bacchae follows the descent of Dionysus (Wally McCabe) upon the city of Thebes, where they have already seduced a band of women into following them away into the hills. There, it’s orgies-galore, much to the disdain of Pentheus (Immanuel Smith). The play follows Pentheus’ denial of Dionysus’ divine – albeit indulgent – authority and the reassertion of power in a gruesome conclusion. 

The intimate and stripped-back set design worked well and, paired with the O’Reilly’s in-the-round seating, created an immersive atmosphere of ecstasy. Actors entered from all sides, joining and leaving the audience, even peering over into the theatre from the balconies at points, creating multiple layers of spectacle and rendering us as part of Dionysus’ divine dance. The sense of bacchic frenzy was furthermore augmented by the actors’ lack of restraint from forcing us in the front row to tuck our legs away as they sashayed, rolled, and gesticulated across the stage. 

McCabe’s performance as Dionysus was seductive – creating chemistry with both actor and audience through dialogue and soliloquy – and swung successfully from sensuality to vainglorious rage as the plot demanded. At times bare-chested and always booted up in platform Doc Martens, watching basically every character in the play swoon at Dionysus’ every glance and, quite literally, dance to the beat of their drum, was really quite titillating.

The more minor character of Tiresias (Susie Weidmann) was performed and costumed excellently – Weidmann’s rod-wielding was more Maggie Smith as the Dowager Countess than Ian McKellen as Gandalf, and it was hilarious. The late entry of Agave (Alice Wyles) into the play bore no weight on Wyles’ ability to evoke emotion: hers was another standout performance.

Although props were sparse, some effective choices were made. The severed head raised aloft at the play’s conclusion was chillingly well-constructed, but its effect was slightly undermined by the squeaking of styrofoam in what was supposed to have been a bag of mangled body parts.

Director Freyja Harrison-Wood succeeds with The Bacchae in curating a play which balances physical performance and tantric scene-building with well-paced plot advancement. Any qualms about its experimentality were offset by well-delivered performances. The result is intriguing and, yes, orgasmic. 

The Bacchae will continue its run at the Keble O’Reilly until Saturday, 3rd February. Tickets for the play are on sale here.

ATIK Oxford won’t be closing despite rumours

Following speculations by many students regarding the future of nightclub ATIK’s operations, Cherwell contacted the parent company, Rekom UK, for comment. A spokesperson for the company told Cherwell “Atik Oxford is not closing.”

Rekom is a multinational Danish-owned nightlife operations company, and its British subsidiary, Rekom UK, is the owner and operator of brands ATIK, PRYZM and Cameo. The company’s 46 properties across the country make it the largest proprietor of night clubs in the UK by square footage.

The company has made headlines in the previous weeks as “administrators were called in” to many branches, including those in Nottingham, Southampton and Oxford. According to Chairman Peter Marks, the move is aimed to give ‘breathing space and protection’ while the company works on restructuring its operations.

Causes for the potential closures include a 2.1% dip in nightlife spending from last year according to a Rekom report, which also reiterated that consumers have become more price conscious due to cost-of-living concerns. The latest round of increases in the National Living Wage have also hurt the company’s bottom line, with Marks stating that they would need “an extra £2m” to cover the rise in pay. 

A student who clubs at ATIK once a week told Cherwell: “When I first heard the rumours I was considering rustication because ‘work hard play hard’ is essential to my Oxford study – that was a joke. But in all seriousness I’m glad that ATIK is not closing down. My hometown’s ATIK [Dartford] recently shut down, so going to ATIK Oxford is like keeping a part of my home here.”

The ATIK spokesperson also told Cherwell: “we will respond with an official statement for you in due course.”

Before being acquired by Rekom, the current brands and operations were owned and operated by UK-company Deltic Group. The group faced financial difficulties during the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic and was on the brink of going into administration, when it was acquired by Rekom and rebranded as Rekom UK.

Saltburn: a Mid-Noughties Fashion Revival

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Emerald Fennell’s latest film ‘Saltburn’ has rocked audiences for many reasons. It features an all-star cast, classic throwback tunes, and a twisted plot accompanied by striking visuals. For ‘Saltburn’, Fennell collaborated with costume designer Sophie Canale, who claims to have swapped Pinterest for Facebook in her search for outfit inspiration. Having previously worked on Neftlix’s ‘Bridgerton’,Canale has a knack for encapsulating a range of historical periods through wardrobe, and shocking as it may seem, the mid-2000s are now technically ‘vintage’. Nineties-inspired styles have experienced a massive surge in popularity up until now, so it seems necessary to dissect Fennell’s portrayal of noughties trends to see what deserves to return, and what ought to be left in the past.

The opening scene offers a vignette of Oxford in 2006, where the chaos of freshers and their doting parents sets the temporal context as the camera journeys with Oliver around Radcliffe Square. The architecture in the backdrop is timeless, meaning costume is essential to conveying the temporal context of ‘Saltburn’. Canale and Fennell achieve this through clichés – one extra can be seen dressed top-to-toe in bubblegum pink, with brown UGG boots to add variety. As other groups of students stroll around the square there is a stark absence of skinny jeans, with bootcuts, flares, and more relaxed denim styles being favoured. The cyclical movement of fashion trends such as these might explain why ‘Saltburn’s costuming choices are receiving the approval of modern audiences.

As Oliver later stands in Brasenose’s first quad, we see a full Juicy Couture tracksuit worn by another student in the back. Nothing screams ‘noughties’ more than this. We have witnessed a revival of the iconic two-piece, with the brand reappearing in Urban Outfitters, but it wasn’t until 2023 that the original low-rise style made its comeback. That of course does not mean we must accept every noughties trend in 2024 as it first emerged. I was hardly a fan of the party outfits worn by the girls, and I would lament the return of wearing denim miniskirts with black opaque tights.

Canale’s costuming for Felix makes extensive use of the “posh-boy polo”. With a wardrobe dominated by Ralph Lauren, popped collars and lived-in denim, Felix’s style effortlessly reflects English noughties fashion. Canale further appropriates the style of the lead character to his culture through particular outfits like the salmon shirt under a blue jumper, which encapsulates the styles of the British upper-middle class. The simplicity of Felix’s wardrobe is here to stay, with linen shirts and Carhartt jeans still being sported across Oxford. What constrains Felix’s wardrobe to his time are his accessories, from the plethora of bracelets to that questionable eyebrow piercing.

At Saltburn estate we encounter Venetia, whose makeup imitates the smokey-eye look associated with Effy Stonem from ‘Skins’. The series, first released in 2007, perfectly exemplifies the trends of the late noughties in Bristol, and considering the glamourisation of Effy in popular culture, it makes complete sense that Fennell pushes the appeal further through Venetia. We are already witnessing a rise in interest for ‘indie sleaze’, a trend that took off in the United States and United Kingdom contemporary to the plot of both ‘Saltburn’ and ‘Skins’. It would fail to surprise me if the reception of ‘Saltburn’ propels these aesthetics back into the mainstream.

Farley’s costuming is unfairly overlooked, despite it being so distinct from the majority of the students. His style is anachronistic to the noughties; when he first appears on-screen, he stands out for adopting flared trousers and patterned sweater vests that evoke the seventies and eighties. Farley’s vintage flair contrasts the trendiness of his peers, whose trial-and-error of trends juxtaposes his refined interpretation of former fashions. Perhaps this foreshadows how we might re-interpret and employ noughties trends in response to ‘Saltburn’.

So ‘Saltburn’ fuels the fire for a revival of noughties trends, and the costume design of Fennell and Canale draws on iconic fashions from the time that has already made a return. UGGs are loved by many, and Juicy Couture is adored for letting us girls unleash our inner Paris Hilton. The wardrobe of Felix is distinct to its contemporary through the selection of brands from which Canale has sourced, and I would hope that more men of Oxford follow his example. Fennell draws on examples from popular culture current to ‘Saltburn’s’ setting, and in emulation of original media and fashions, she may have just encouraged a renewed interest in noughties fashion. The premiere of the film coincides with the release of the final season of Netflix’s ‘The Crown’, whose portrayal of Prince William and then-Kate Middleton at university might inspire some to look further into the styles of the early noughties. It seems that we might be witnessing the rise of the ‘noughties period drama’ after all.

Five reasons to eat the whole apple

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I’ll admit that there’s nothing quite like that first bite into a crisp apple. Crunching off the overhang you’ve made as you’ve gone around the fruit is almost as satisfying. Which begs the question: why on earth do we stop there? When we throw away the core, up to 30% of an entirely edible apple is lost.

I’m an all-apple advocate, I’ll eat the “core”, the seeds and even the blossom end. So, I’ve come up with the top five benefits of eating an apple properly to try and convince you to, too:

  1. No waste

Have you ever eaten an apple with nowhere to throw it away? Maybe you’ve forgotten it on your desk, or in a pocket – later discovering a browning, decomposing, sticky mess. If you eat the whole shebang you are left with nothing but the stem!

Also, apples are terrible for the environment when sent to a landfill. There is hardly any oxygen inside landfills, due to the compacting. When apple cores are left to microbially degrade in these conditions, instead of producing some carbon dioxide, they produce a lot of methane (which has a 100-year global warming potential 20 times worse than that of CO2).

  1. More bang for your buck

Let’s do some maths. As you now know, throwing away the core means throwing away 30% of the apple. Say you’ve bought 6 apples for £3. If you aren’t eating the full monty you’re basically throwing away a pound! “Okay, what’s a pound? Eating the whole apple is gross” you might say. Well let’s expand our little calculation to the global scale, shall we?

If we all had an apple a day, to keep the doctors at bay, only to throw the cores away (much to my dismay) – that’s the equivalent of 15p gone astray. Get a calculator out. Times that 15p by 7.9 billion people. Times that number by 365 days. You’ll end up with £433 billion, that’s like Ireland’s GDP in the bin. Just because of the social constructs that (1) apple cores aren’t edible and that (2) seeds are scary!

  1. Immunity to cyanide

Okay, maybe I went overboard on the calculation, not everyone likes apples. But seeds aren’t scary. Yes, they have a little cyanide in them in the form of amygdalin, but the poison only emerges after amygdalin is metabolised, and to be metabolised it has to be released from the seed. Thankfully, seeds have evolved to pass through the digestive system unscathed, so that they can be shat out in ready-made soil to become mystical trees.

Even if you do decide to meticulously crush each one with your molars, you’d have to grind and ingest roughly 2000 of them in one day to get cyanide poisoning. So, anything less than that and you are partaking in mithridatism, the practice of protecting oneself against a poison by gradually self-administering non-lethal amounts. Ever seen The Princess Bride? That could be you if you ate the whole apple.

  1. Probiotics galore

A single apple has about 100 million bacterial cells, but if you toss out the core, you’re only consuming about 10 million of ’em. The seeds and each end have most of the good stuff, with the peel around the apple’s equator having the least. This fantastic gut flora helps with food digestion, immune system regulation and vitamin synthesis (especially Vitamin K, almost half of your daily requirement is provided by these bacteria).

  1. Expanding your palate

Just as we discard the most nutrient dense parts of apples, we discard the most nutrient dense parts of animals (organ meats, offal, marrow, etc.) in favour of steak, chicken thighs and pork chops. Nose-to-tail eating is the philosophy of cooking and consuming every possible part of an animal. It’s kind of awesome, and the almond notes of apple seeds might be your gateway to the butteriness of beef marrow and the coppery sweetness of chicken heart. Open your mind and your mouth!

Cherwell Introducing: Zahra

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In our Introducing series, Cherwell will be bringing you the best up and coming artists in Oxford. This week, Joseph interviewed Zahra.

Please introduce yourself!

I’m Zahra, a 2nd Year Philosophy and Theology student at Christ Church, and I’ve just released my debut single, Windows Down!

Who is your biggest musical inspiration?

It’s impossible to choose one! Whenever I think about this I try and remember what I’d play on my family’s CD player from when I was about 4. Justin Timberlake, Madonna’s Hard Candy, Alicia Keys, Jennifer Hudson, Prince. So, a lot of pop, soul, and R&B: which I feel inspires me when I’m writing pop songs to use jazzy chords, or to incorporate an R&B drum pattern or influence.

Right now, I’d say my biggest writing influences are Boygenius, Phoebe Bridgers, and Olivia Dean. But I feel like the music of my childhood is just so ingrained in me sub-consciously I can’t help but refer to it.

Has your experience at Oxford influenced your writing/performing?

Oxford’s given me so many experiences to write about: I wouldn’t have gone interrailing this summer if it wasn’t for being at Uni which is an experience I wrote multiple songs about, or experiences of dating, boys, romance. Being in a new place and meeting new people is bound to expand your horizons. Funnily enough though, while being here gives me material, I find writing in Oxford really hard. As we all know, it’s so intense, and I find I can only write properly during the vacations: my emotional capacity isn’t there during term, and turning an emotional experience into a creative endeavour is hard to do here.

What is your first musical memory?

It’s a hazy memory I have of when I was 2 or 3, watching Mariah Carey’s We Belong Together music video. It’s just so nostalgic to me. It was my sister’s favourite music video, so we would watch it on the TV together and have a little boogie.

Do you find any connection between your studies and your music?

Doing Philosophy and Theology forces me to think deeply about religion, God, the world, and personal identity. After studying these things in depths and having 1 on 1 tutes it’s hard to get away from it sinking in personally as well: ever since I could recognise my love for philosophy and theology, I’ve had this existentialism which intuitively helps me with songwriting. My studies certainly help me think about my life, my emotions, and experiences more deeply, which goes hand in hand with songwriting and unlocking my creativity.

Describe your sound in three words.

Groovy summer pop.

Where do you want to be in 10 years?

I’ll be 30…that’s crazy! Ok so there’s two options. Realistically, I want to reach a point where I can look at my career and be happy and satisfied. Making a comfortable living from music, no side job or struggling to make music my main purpose.

But if we’re saying the sky is the limit, I’m still getting used to sharing my dreams with other people, like I didn’t tell people I sang until less than a year ago. I like to keep my big dreams close to my heart.

What’s your favourite song right now?

Kind of rogue, but it’s Tell Your Friends, by the Weeknd and, Sober II (Melodrama) by Lorde. I’m in an angsty, Hilary, it’s dark outside and I’m getting drunk 3 times a week vibe! I’m gonna cheat and give you two.

What is a song that made you want to become a songwriter?

Well, it’s not a song but an artist: I have to say Taylor Swift. I think I learned piano and guitar because she plays them. Even though I was writing songs and melodies and poems since I was 6, when I remember being 10 at the piano, I remember thinking: ‘I’m going to write a song because Taylor Swift writes her own songs.’ I felt like I couldn’t be a true musician unless I wrote my own songs. I also had this knowledge where I knew my voice wouldn’t get me where I wanted on its own, so I had to write.

What do you wish was different about the music industry in 2024?

Tik Tok is a double-edged sword. It’s free and accessible, in an industry that is inherently exclusionary, and built on who you know. However, it’s become not just a tool, but a necessary medium for music promotion. Imagine Paul McCartney, or Amy Winehouse, as influencers: these cool, phenomenally creative people, selling songs on Tik Tok? It feels like if you want to be an artist you have to be an influencer, which so many people don’t want! It’s jarring for a lot of independent musicians, when labels expect you to have an online presence.

Zahra’s debut single, Windows Down, is out now. Her debut EP of the same name is coming in late April.

Follow Zahra on Instagram @ zahra.sahamad

Remembering Oxford: Memorialising “The City of Dreaming Spires”

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In the common room of the Taylor Institute Library, a framed row of historical engravings depict scenes of Oxford. Among them is an engraving by J. H. Parker, dated 1849, capturing a moment of “The View of the Martyr’s Memorial and Aisle”. The Martyr’s Memorial, which still stands today on St. Giles, overlooks pedestrians with parasols and scholar’s robes. On its steps two men watch another play with a dog. As I exit the library, it strikes me that in its memorials of people long deceased and its unchanging historical landscape, Oxford seems often at a standstill.

Martyr’s Memorial was erected in 1843 in remembrance of three Protestants who were burned at the stake in 1555. The buildings that Parker depicted surrounding the memorial can be observed today: St. Mary Magdalen church, the facade of Balliol College, and the buildings of Magdalen Street. Perhaps the largest discrepancy between the scene from 1849 to today is the layout of the road. While people leisurely stroll along St. Giles in the fading inked landscape, I am on the lookout for cars as I cross onto a median strip under construction, in an attempt to recapture the perspective of Parker.

Observing the memorial framed by green netting, I am reminded that despite Oxford’s seeming timelessness, things are still subject to change. Memory of a place is constantly reformulated, physically through construction and through the ways in which people remember them. Restorative works to the Martyr’s Memorial were done throughout the 20th century, and more recently, in 2002. The bright paint one can observe on the shields is thus not the same used in the 19th century, an imposition of modernity that has also affected the traditions of Oxford— such as the wearing of robes and Latin ceremonies— which have faded to moments of re-enactment in formal halls and academic ceremonies.

At the same time, these slivers of tradition also build new meanings of memorialization. As the men sit on the memorial in Parker’s engraving, on the steps one young woman now takes a lunch break while a man gazes out at the street contemplative. I overhear the conversation of three friends, one of them seemingly a local touring his companions. Throughout the years, millions of tourists have interacted with the memorial in the same way. In the Bodleian I find a 1938 guidebook to Oxford titled “The City of Spires”. In the guidebook’s first few pages a photo of the memorial advertises a local “Private Hotel”, which no longer exists, on 13-17 Magdalen street.

The dubbing of Oxford as “The City of Dreaming Spires” is a popular one that reproduces the coinage of the city as ‘that sweet city with her dreaming spires’ by Matthew Arnold in his 1865 poem Thyrsis (1865). Thyrsis commemorates Arnold’s deceased friend Arthur Hugh Clough, and opens with an exclamation of how Oxford has changed since they walked the streets together as students (‘How changed is here each spot man makes or fills!’). Perhaps the pair, then members of Balliol College, too sat on the steps of Martyr’s Memorial.

Why do we memorialise? Why are some places of memory preserved more than others (why are the ancient spires still standing, while 13-17 Magdalen Street constantly changes)? As I reflected upon this Oxford spire entrenched with memory, I noticed a graffitied wall on one of the shops flanking Martyr’s Memorial. Among the scrawl of letters one struck my eye: SPIRE. Walking through the city, I start noticing its frequency, repetitively hidden in plain sight on walls and doors, and even on a dusty window of a closed establishment.

I ran my finger through the dust, creating a streak that joins the graffiti tags. In doing so I realised that with the rain and wind these words will disappear in days. These SPIREs, unlike the towers that celebrate Oxford’s traditions of academic prestige, will be removed— if not by the elements, by local authorities. Yet, although these graffiti spires are more ephemeral than their architectural counterparts, they are similarly repeated across the city. I wonder if the creators of these spires shared a common uncertainty of when their creations will be destroyed or reconstructed.

Perhaps we create art and memorials to mark a moment that will inevitably mutate and be forgotten through time. The engraving hung on the wall of the Taylor Institute Library’s common room. Arnold’s commemoration of walks through Oxford with his best friend. The graffiti spires on the ground level of Oxford’s streets that mirror the ones that define its skyscape. Martyr’s Memorial, which does hold the same cultural weight it did when it was completed in 1843. Yet, the spire reminds one not only of the moment of religious history it remembers, but multiple memories layered with everyday repeated moments of tradition through the centuries.