Debunking the Saint Andrews Aesthetic

Before even stepping foot on the ankle-breaking Market Street cobble stones, how many dark academia pictures did you save to your Pinterest board coined ‘My New Life’ or ‘Entering the Bubble’? They didn’t have to be dark academia, but you surely doom-scrolled through photos of the Raisin Foam Fight or the sea of red gowns at the Gaudie torch procession. Maybe you've stumbled across the photo of Kate writing ‘King’ on William’s chest. Iconic? Yes. Albeit photoshopped. Admittedly, we have all been there. One must visualise to actualise, right? 

While it is natural — if not required — to look at glimpses of what your future life might be, I am here to issue a warning. The photos you view are not only saved to a specific board or collage, but are stored in a little subfolder within your mind, which consciously or maybe subconsciously becomes a blueprint. The effects of needing to follow this blueprint are especially felt in the first few months. There’s a panic in the air, an unspoken obligation to achieve the St Andrews image that you saw online. 

When you're sitting on the fresh cut grass in Sallies Quad with your ‘best friends’ — the ones you met three days ago at Starfields — you may think, ‘put me on a promotional poster already.’ For many St Andreans, there is an internal pride fuelled by how you epitomise the coastal University's aesthetic. 

However, this curated appearance is just that, curated. It is a matter of when — not if — your experience will deviate from your idealised expectations.Maybe as you sit in your half-decorated room, listening to your hallmate's music bleed through the walls, you will see that the same group of people that you were joyously babbling with in Sallies have all posted the same story of a walk on East Sands. Betrayal. How could your best friends do this to you? These are the moments where the romanticised filter begins to slip. These are the moments conveniently cropped out by the people who created and enforced this specific depiction of St Andrews. Sneaky bastards. 

My tone may seem a bit harsh, but is intended as anything but negative. I hold firm that it is only once the covert algorithm’s filter fades that St Andrews begins to truly form. As the polished facade fades away, the layers of someone else’s experience unpeels, revealing your own. 

A gin and tonic at Molly Malone’s may slowly be replaced by a sacred pint of Belhaven Best at Aikman’s. A coffee walk to see the cows on the Fife Coastal path may fall into a routined stroll through Lade Braes that ends with a visit to the Botanical Garden’s cafe. 

I will stop the list here to avoid accidentally revealing my favorite spots. Spots that are hardly secret — probably unoriginal — but nevertheless mine. I’m possessive because they were found through experiences that cannot be captured through a screen and contain memories with real, beautiful people and close friends.

Eventually, you'll build a version of the town that does not exist online: the cafe where you’re on your tenth stamp card, the shortcut you take when the weather denies the scenic route home, or the booth at the pub that's somehow always yours. None of it is particularly ‘aesthetic’. Probably none of it will go viral. But it'll be yours. And that's the version of St Andrews you'll learn to love and embrace.

Photo by Smilla Spasic