TikTok Preppy
Anna Pacilio
Collage by Bronwyn Jensen
Since the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic in the Spring of 2020, I harbored the same vice as most millennials and gen-z-ers: TikTok. It was so easy to scroll aimlessly and watch my For You page become more and more personalized to my interests as a curious junior in high school. The app’s masterful algorithm soon featured my favorite musicians, clothing brands, and even the colleges I was applying to at the time, notably our very own Middlebury College. Naturally, I paid close attention to any and all content about the college and dissected “day in my life” videos, trying to imagine myself there as opposed to other institutions.
Eventually, I stumbled upon TikTok videos that flashed the title “Preppy Colleges to Apply to” and “New England Preppy Aesthetic Colleges” in golden glitter and automated graphics. To my surprise, I found Middlebury College listed among Boston College, Vanderbilt University, the University of Virginia, and some of its NESCAC peers as well. This came as a surprise. I thought that everything I needed to know had been relayed at my tour and info-session. Isn’t Middlebury located in the heart of Vermont, and doesn’t it draw students with an array of interests? TikTok erased these ideas and attached emojis, neon colors, stars, and lightning bolts to my conception of Midd.
These Tiktoks drew on cues from the créme de la créme of our society and painted them in shades of warm pinks and blues. Hallmarks of the “preppy aesthetic” put forth by these videos seemed to include monkey or heart-printed Roller Rabbit pajama sets, neon Aviator Nation leisure wear, sparkly Golden Goose sneakers, and Lululemon athletic apparel. Tiktokkers used images of these items as the backgrounds for typed out names of colleges and universities. These short videos did not echo the “old money” New England Aesthetic of Ralph Lauren or Burberry that is often championed by the Ivy League, at least on Tiktok. Rather, the “preppy aesthetic” was something new, previously unforeseen but increasingly engrossing to TikTok users. At first, I received the impression that the aesthetic was appealing, but it seemed simultaneously illusive, which may have peaked and preserved the interest of today’s TikTok users, so accustomed to the mundane act of scrolling through the app for seconds, minutes, or hours of each day. The popularity of preppy Tiktoks suggested that perhaps people are either consciously or subliminally influenced by these videos. This got me thinking, how much are teenage students influenced by these videos, and could they influence the schools they apply to?
From a class-conscious perspective, it seems as though the preppy aesthetic that has inspired the creation of thousands of related TikTok, Instagram, and Pinterest accounts is inherently exclusive by gender and class: when you type “preppy aesthetic” into the TikTok app, the first suggested search is “preppy aesthetic rich girl.” The implications of the college’s association with this aesthetic are multifaceted, but it sent a message in simple terms that the student body, specifically the subgroup that is female-identifying, was characterized by an air of affluence and access to expensive, fashion trends.
Sure, there are people who opt for a “preppy” personal style anywhere, throughout New England and beyond. However, at the college level, they can do so without potentially causing current or prospective students to feel limited by their personal tastes or their financial circumstances. Midd kids are rich in authenticity and intellect, and happiness is reflected when you wear your clothes, not when they wear you. The preppy aesthetic on Tiktok seems to target a teen and pre-teen age group, but it continues to run rampant on the app, and many people have yet to kick their quarantine-induced affinity for it. This raises the question, how can we counter this misrepresentation? A resolute answer remains unknown, but it absolutely lies within the realm of social media and will continue to do so.