Dormcore: What your student bedroom says about you
Did you have the Betty Blue poster or Athena’s ‘Tennis’ girl? A lava lamp or a single red light bulb? As thousands of students prepare to move out of home and into uni accommodation, Liz Moseley steps into her Adidas Gazelles and looks at ‘dormcore’ through the ages
Stand by for traffic chaos this weekend as the parents of half a million lucky youths pack up the Volvo and embark on the annual sobbing ritual of depositing their offspring at university for the first time. The opening of the portal into the university half-life between childhood and grown-upsville is a big moment for any family.
You could argue that higher education is a cipher for the way Britain imagines itself and its future. Universities are microcosms of society, determining what we think is valuable, important and successful – and who gets the chance to feel all or any of those things.
In the same way, the items wedged up against the windows of Dad’s car – moth-eaten childhood mementoes muddled in with shiny new Ikea essentials – tell a story of their time. They are code for the way today’s students imagine themselves and their own future, from the movie-poster nihilism of the late Eighties and early Nineties (Betty Blue, A Clockwork Orange, Withnail and I) to the super-hetero kitsch of the blithely optimistic early Noughties (plastic daisies and “Little Miss” crop tops in the wardrobe) right through to the comfortcore of today’s anxious social justice warriors. Put simply, student dorms provide a surprisingly satisfying slice of social history.
The raw material of student accommodation is brutal even when it’s nice. Breezeblock bare walls, laminate storage and inexplicably bright, wipe-clean communal areas are a literal blank canvas on which bright-eyed undergrads can inscribe a new persona away from the cloying comfort of home. Whatever the set-up, by the start of the spring term they’ll be living in an environmental health hazard. I had a friend whose approach to personal hygiene was so lax, she found a potato growing in her pants drawer.
Come second year, most students venture off campus, creating new opportunities for dormcore to flourish. I had the pleasure of studying for a very enjoyable but totally impractical English literature degree between 1994 and 1997 at the University of Newcastle upon Tyne. It was at the height of Britpop, but before Spicemania took hold, when Tony Blair’s landslide victory was, until my finals, just out of reach.
Things were terrible, but we were sure they could only get better. Unihomes is advertising a shared, five-bedroom house on the next street to where I lived in my second year, for £134 per person per week. Back in 1995, I paid the princely sum of £33, which was on the expensive side at the time. I got our telly from Radio Rentals (yes, renting a telly was totally a thing – and we had phones in the hall, too), and we clubbed together to buy a massive Smirnoff poster from a bloke in the pub selling knock-off billboard advertisements, which we used to wallpaper our lounge.
Today, TVs will have been replaced with something streaming from a top-of-the-range Mac, which no one is watching because they’re all doomscrolling TikTok on their phones.
The conversion of the polys in 1992, which opened university up to so many more people, was a great leveller. The early Nineties university experience, in the dying years of a long Tory government imploding under the weight of its own sleaze, was tailor-made for the campus grimy aesthetic of grunge. Before second-hand became “vintage”, grunge was something everyone could get in on. Pre-Blair, looking crap and talking rubbish was not a barrier to acceptance into the in-crowd.
One look at today’s so-called dormfluencers [see #dormlife on TikTok] and it’s obvious they wouldn’t countenance living in a tie-dyed dirt hole. Paying for your education, along with the ubiquity of social media, has elevated many students’ expectations of... everything. Student influencers like Lidia Baylis-Zullo, who is “just a history student living lifeeee in Manchester”, wouldn’t be seen dead scoffing a Pot Noodle. Her new flat boasts smart parquet-style flooring and what could reasonably be described as “an executive kitchen”, perfect for crafting that superfood smoothie.
The truth is, being an undergraduate has become an extortionately expensive three-year lolfest. Some things don’t change, though – and, with comforting 2020s predictability, there’s a meme for it. “Things about my student house that just make sense” are mini house tours highlighting the still grotty, absurd and nausea-inducing realities of student living. It’s been around since 2020, and is still going strong, which suggests that not everyone is a dormfluencer. Yet.
Student bedroom clichés through the ages
Early Nineties
On the walls: Nirvana/The Godfather/Scarface. Extra points for Betty Blue and the Three Colours trilogy.
Investment buy: Patchouli oil and joss sticks to mask the whiff of death emanating from your second-hand velvet blazer and totally bona fide Indian tie-dye wall-hanging.
Home touch: Mum’s polyester duvet cover with stars and moons print all over it is embarrassing but will do. A batik throw and cuddly Bagpuss add cosiness. If you’ve had a gap year, a giant world map clearly showing everywhere you went, to impress guests.
Cool touch: You want a lava lamp, but can’t afford it so a bare red light bulb will do when you need to soften the tone of all-nighters spent smoking rollies and listening to Mazzy Star.
Must have: Can of Red Stripe and a massive ashtray stolen from the pub.
Late Nineties to early Noughties
On the walls: Scarface, Pulp Fiction and a Trainspotting poster: Massive Attack’s Blue Lines; Primal Scream’s Screamdelica. Rest of the room is plastered with stuff cut out of Select magazine.
Homely touch: A Union Jack duvet cover hides most stains and looks cool. Portable TV is put near the window as otherwise the aerial can’t pick up the reception.
Cool touch: Adidas Gazelles and a parka on the back of your door. CDs in smokey, grey plastic storage towers and a big, wooden pencil with specially angled grooves in it. Books on display so people know you’re not stupid: The Secret History, Captain Corelli’s Mandolin and The Virgin Suicides.
Investment buy: Acrylic bangles and ribbon chokers in a little wooden set of drawers from Ikea decorated with pictures cut out from The Face.
Must have: Bottle of Metz and a packet of Lucky Strike.
Late Noughties
On the walls: Little Miss Sunshine, Avatar and Donnie Darko are acceptable. The Lord of the Rings is a red flag.
Home touch: A “Keep Calm and Carry On” mug, homemade fun fur cushion cover – cow or leopard print works best – and a floral Laura Ashley style duvet cover or a grey marl one from Muji. Layering textures and patterns is called “shabby chic” and very sophisticated. Polyester duvet still going strong for the lads.
Investment buy: A string of flamingo-shaped fairy lights; day-to-night scarves draped on the back of your door; and a gerbera (ideally a real one, but plastic is fine) in a frosted glass vase to perk up a drab workspace.
Cool touch: Have something with Miffy on it next to your copy of The Da Vinci Code by your bed. Display your collection of DVDs: Audrey Hepburn box set, Bo’Selecta! and The Office.
Must have: iPad, Magners and a packet of Marlboro Lights.
Today
On the walls: If you absolutely have to put a movie poster up it must be an obscure arthouse movie and/or Korean. Much better to display your own artwork.
Home touch: A protest flag – pink and blue for trans rights, but a rainbow also works fine. A Kawaii-style nightlight of a smiling mushroom will soothe you after a confrontational seminar.
Cool touch: Selection of sex toys to demonstrate your open-mindedness and sex positivity.
Investment buy: A record player for your Taylor Swift vinyl collector’s editions and Dad’s old copy of (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?
Must have: Vapes, a traumatic backstory and tattoos.
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