Don't leave home with this...

It's mid-July, and hot summer days aren't the only thing descending upon the University. Just as Charlottesville nestles in a bit more snugly for its long summers' nap, it's beginning to look a lot like ... first years.

In recent weeks, scads of first years, accompanied by their anxious parents, have flocked to Grounds for summer orientation. (Note: If you forgot to sign up for Econ 201, forget about it. Come August, class wait lists will be longer than the O-Hill waffle station line on a Sunday morning.)

Let it suffice to say that it's not terribly difficult to spot our dear orientees. They're the ones cringing as Mom photographs them repeatedly in front of the Rotunda, the ones stopping you in line at Chick-fil-A to ask for directions to Newcomb Hall, the ones pausing a moment as they enter their dorm to marvel at the wonders of the crypto card.

Heck, can you blame them? For some kids, this is their first time on Grounds. Even if they have been here before, seeing all sorts of toweled and robed Lawn residents wander through their admissions tour was probably a bit distracting.

In a month, things will be different. Mom will be left at home with her precious snapshots, Grounds will become increasingly familiar and crypto cards will become part of a daily routine. In short, the first years will assimilate seamlessly into the sea of wahoos, right?

Au contraire. Even if they can find their way from Hereford to McLeod blindfolded, most first years can still be spotted from a mile away. Is it a sixth sense? The smell of the Castle that lingers for days on an unlaundered shirt? Although I wouldn't rule out the latter point, I would argue that the best method of detecting a first year is to observe their appearance.

Now, I'm not trying to sound catty here, but it's true. So, first years, rather than figure those things out on your own, as I was forced to do, let's talk about the basics that send out deadly blips on everyone's first-year detection radar.

Black Pants. Now, I like black pants as much as the next girl. Yet I liken them to tequila shots. At first they sound great, but you always regret them afterward. And, like those ounces of alcohol, too much of them can be a very bad thing. There's no better way to elicit a smirk from people than to walk down Rugby in a herd of 15 girls wearing tight black pants. Trust me, I've been on both sides of the equation.

I know you're excited that after four years of wearing jeans every night, you can dress up a little bit. But let's get serious, dahlings. This ain't New York. Your low-riding, butt-squeezing black pants might look tres chic at Exit. Here, they're a dead giveaway that you're new in town. Let's not kid ourselves - guys like them. Then again, guys also like mud wrestling. Get my point?

The senior class T-shirt. Yes, you thought it was the greatest thing ever when you got it. What better way to maintain rapidly-eroding high-school pride than to sport your T-shirt with your entire class's names listed on the back? Never mind that it takes a magnifying glass to read them. What matters is that the names of your very best friends will be with you all day, no matter where you go or what you do!

Okay, so unless you graduated before the new millennium and can at least claim to be going for the vintage T-shirt look, the class T-shirt has got to go. Sure, you can keep it tucked in the back of your drawer and take it out every night to peer wistfully at the names of your old gang. Or, you can roll it up and smoke it. I really don't care what you do with it, just so long as you don't wear it.

Designer work-out clothes The Aquatic & Fitness Center, swanky as it may be and gloriously toned as its patrons seem, isn't Bally's, the Washington Sports Club or Gold's.

I really mean it when I say that nobody dresses to impress when they work out here. Translation: your cute Nike sports bra doesn't have to match your spandex leggings. Really. Besides, the AFC supposedly requires shirts, so wear them! If you don't, most girls will look disdainfully at you, and most guys won't stop looking at you. Perhaps now's a good time to flash back to the mud wrestling comment above.

Lanyard key chains. Like escort service, lanyard key chains seem too good to be true. Talk about convenience. Talk about practicality. Talk about ... there's no better way to scream "first year."

Yes, they make it easy to fish your keys out of your overflowing book bag. Yes, they go perfectly around your neck so you won't forget your keys at the dining hall. Yes, they come in so many colors and patterns.

But after being dropped on one too many fraternity floors, they get dirty. After a semester, a lanyard that started out a blinding white will turn the color of weathered cement. Of course, you could just get a new lanyard. Hopefully, though, you're starting to realize that you've never seen anyone older than yourself carrying one.

No doubt, the essence of college is learning from your mistakes. First-year fashion is no exception to this principle, so if you want to carry a lanyard, go for it. Coordinate those workout clothes. Wear those black pants - the tighter the better - and proudly flaunt your class T-shirt. After all, three years from now you're going to see another unsuspecting first year doing those same things. And if you promise to control your smirk, I'll promise not to say "I told you so"