Column by Sara Nelle Murphy

It all started with a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses.

Wearing my signature accessory illuminated the campus with a romantic glow as I walked back and forth from class to class my freshman year.  Regardless of whether I was dressed to the nines, in heels and dresses, or dressed to the zeros, in flip flops and running shorts, the rose-colored glasses were my anchor of individuality.

Coming to UK, I encountered many diverse people of interesting personal style. People watching became an extracurricular activity that turned a normal stroll into a sociological field study.

The first day of class is always an event in itself. Many people roll out of bed, toss on whatever is clean, and walk out the door.

Others treat the first day as a runway show, wearing their most stylish clothes to show others that they are a fashion force to be reckoned with.

After attending an all-girls Catholic high school with a strictly enforced dress code, my first day as a freshman I was in full-force fashion mode.

Although that day is a hazy memory of syllabi and socializing, I can remember that I had meticulously chosen my outfit, wanting to make a good impression as a newbie.

The whole fall semester I painstakingly planned out my wardrobe, rotating quintessential items with newfound obsessions. It was an art in itself to work on a student budget while trying to maintain an ahead-of-the-curve image.

The next semester was a return to reality. Burned out from a busy school schedule, and fighting the harsh weather climate, I found comfort in cozy sweatshirts and fluffy down jackets.

There seemed to be no point to fashion when the wind was whipping you in every direction near Patterson Office Tower. And so I hibernated in my fleece and flannel, a bear in a cave waiting for the icicles to thaw and the sun to return from its slumber.

That spring was the rebirth of my style. The sun was shining again, and I uncovered my heart-shaped sunglasses, wiped the dust from the lenses and rediscovered my affinity for skipping to and from class.

But this time around, I wasn’t wearing them to impress others; I was wearing the glasses for myself. True, I sometimes received curious looks from passerby, but I was in my own rose-colored world, too content to take notice.