Are Back To School Looks Still Do Or Die?

By Deanna Cheng

With back-to-school chatter brimming in every conversation, I was feeling nostalgic for those back-to-school feelings. How hopeful new school supplies felt. Textbooks wrapped in brown paper bags, a bright yellow highlighter not yet run through wet ink and that special outfit hanging proudly in the closet. What you wore on that first day could set the tone for the rest of the year. It was an opportunity to reinvent yourself. You would take the wisdom you gained over the summer and try to translate that into a look that communicated: new-year-new-you. Finding that look, back in the day, was a tall order especially since we had no instagram, no internet, no Pinterest boards, no shared folders, no Stitch Fix, no nothing. Just a set of eyeballs and a prayer.

Fashion ideas from current youths later in this post!

But before we look forward, I want to step back into the past and revisit my summer before high school. It was harrowing. The friend group I had since elementary school dumped me on what felt like the last day of 8th grade. Brutal. My calls were not getting returned and my dance card was empty.  I was desperately trying to understand what happened. Had I done something, said something, wore something that forced an entire group into radio silence? Many voicemails and bike-ride-stalkings later, I couldn’t crack the code. I was being iced out. I was beside myself.

A few months before summer break one of the girls in my group (the mean one) (let’s call her Fran) got everyone onboard to do a week at 4H sleep-away camp in August. Now I had been going to 4H Camp for many years. It was located on the Long Island Sound in Riverhead, NY an hour east of where I lived. For those of you who don’t know, the 4H’s are Head, Heart, Hands, and Health.

I pledge my HEAD to clearer thinking, my HEART to greater loyalty, my HANDS to larger service, and my HEALTH to better living, for my club, my community, my country, and my world.

Haven’t revisited the pledge in decades but gotta say -  still slaps. No notes.

4H camp was really just some good ol’ rustic fun. You’d stay in cabins, drink “bug juice”, walk down the 200 winding-wooden steps to the Long Island sound, hit the canteen, make a craft, put on a talent show, sit around the bonfire, sing a song. I had always enjoyed the week away and was equally delighted when my parents arrived to take me back home.

I couldn’t recall anyone from my friend group having any interest in joining me at 4H Camp. So it came as a huge surprise when Fran suggested to the group that we all do a week of camp together. I didn’t see Fran as much of a “camper” but it did feel like a compliment that she wanted to do a me-thing for once.

So even though my calls weren’t getting returned I knew we all had this week scheduled and paid for at the end of the summer. I was holding out hope that this was all a huge misunderstanding and I would be welcomed back into the group with hugs and laughs. But in truth, I had a pit in my stomach.