Student Life
There really is no smoke without fire
Preoccupation with one’s appearance is to be expected when starting at University. New wardrobes and even newer anxieties combine as the daunting concept of Fresher’s Week approaches. Coming from a working-class background, these feelings are inevitably amplified when starting at an institution like Oxford. One only wishes to fit in – a daunting challenge in a University drenched in tradition, history, known for its generational wealth and privilege.
We look to what we can control: our appearances, subtle behaviours. We want to put forward our best selves, but also feel confident with the people around us. But there are certainly some behaviours that you would never expect to carry social meaning. Nicotine, for me at least, was certainly not one of them.
Growing up in a deprived seaside town, my classic night out before university might include some drinks in our sticky local Wetherspoons before shuffling across the road to an equally grubby nightclub. Not before a quick pit stop at the brightly lit ‘Vape Selection’, where a cash-only lemon and lime Crystal Bar awaited us. This route was well-trodden, as many an LED light and fruit-flavoured puff marked the darkened club. Rarely, if we were fortunate enough to afford a pack (or more realistically, leech from someone else), the rogue Malboro would make an appearance.
There was something exclusive about the cigarette, how when someone lit one up, the herds would come running. I found myself enjoying being that person with the packet, as I would exchange bizarre details about my life with strangers in the club’s smoking area. ‘Smoking socially’, in all senses of the term, gave me a buzz. As an extrovert, I was happy to be a part of the 11.6% of 18-24 year olds who enjoyed a late night fag and a deep chat.
While I had always viewed smoking as a luxury, largely down to its price, I had never viewed anyone any differently for puffing on a Superking or an Elf Bar. There was no hierarchy, nor was it a marker of identity. But university changed that.
The vape, in Oxford, is practically extinct. Or rather, it is hidden. I noticed how friends who did enjoy a Lost Mary would do so discreetly: a quick inhale before it disappeared hurriedly into a pocket. But the cigarette, on the other hand, was a different story.
People seemed proud to smoke. They would gather in groups, almost parading their cigarettes, as they dramatically lit one up for a friend. Whether in a pub garden, outside a bar, or simply walking down the street, I would see the same calculated raising of the filter to the mouth, a deep, slow puff, before the cathartic, eye-roll that came with the exhale. It was almost choreographed in its performance. It was alluring, with something frankly sexual about it.
The return of early 2000s beauty and fashion is nothing new. Clothes are branded with Y2K labels in shop windows, while unhealthily skinny bodies walk down red carpets. ‘Heroine chic’ is back, as dark circles, hollow cheekbones, and malnutrition are flaunted as a physical ideal – particularly for women. Health is not in. Instead, we see something darker and grittier in these trends… certainly exacerbated by frequent paparazzi shots of Paul Mescal, Sabrina Carpenter, and Charli XCX taking a drag.
However, what struck me was not the universality of this ‘trend’. People have always mimicked celebrities: that is old news. But it was this distinction between the chic, glorified, and even fetishised cigarette, versus the villainisation and trivialisation of the disposable vape that I could not comprehend. Until university showed me its roots in classism.
The average vape’s bright colouring, cheap price (averaging around £3-5), and sweet flavours make it uncool. A lesser commodity compared to cigarettes, which comparatively average at around £13-20 per pack. I joked with friends about how people were able to afford this lifestyle on a student budget, as I rationed my pack of 20 to last as long as possible. But not only this, I found it hilarious the way in which people paraded around with their cigarettes in Oxford. They were treated like some kind of armour, a status symbol, while I watched my friend shamefully rush their lemon and lime back into their pocket.
Despite Gen Z’s hyperexposure to the damages that cigarettes can cause via campaigns throughout the 2010s, it was clear that this performance was a symptom of something different. A broader aesthetic desire to appear scruffy, frazzled, and messy, in a way that mimics the working class but conveniently excludes the implications of that. It was poverty porn at its finest – the performance of class as style.
I grew up with a single mum ashamed of her smoking, a feeling which certainly influenced me as I was told to “stay away” from cigarettes, that I would be broke from my first puff. Cigarettes were never glamorous – they were a burden, both financial and physical. I would never have imagined that, in a different context, they could become something to display with pride.
And yet, here they are – no longer hidden behind cupped hands or apologetic glances, but held aloft, aestheticised, transformed into something aspirational.
What feels most jarring is not the smoking itself, but the selective romanticisation of it. The same act that signified struggle in one context becomes style in another. The difference is not the cigarette, but who is holding it.
In the end, the smoke may dissipate, but its signal is all too clear.
Student Life
Where is the best vegetarian lunch in Oxford?
For those of us still hung up about the loss of Leon, the answer to the question of where to find a quick, high-quality vegetarian lunch may not be an obvious one. This week, I set out to find out.
I chose to rank independent (ish) cafés in the centre of Oxford, because I’m lazy enough not to want to walk far from college, but enthusiastic enough to want to support local businesses over chains. My rubric was uncodified and unclear, but what I was after, approximately, was a cheap, tasty, and filling vegetarian lunch. Honourable mentions (options no worse than the following list, but too obvious to be worth including): a Taylor’s baguette, a last-minute punt for Itsu maki, and a classic Greggs vegan sausage roll.
5. The Schwarzman Centre
Stay with me. What it lacks in ambience it makes up for in ease. Plus, there’s the added bonus of being able to eavesdrop on conversations between Google executives (true story) whilst you do the reading for your seminar 20 minutes prior. Its main drawback is that it will cost you about £10 for a full lunch. Not one for everyday. It’s also slightly embarrassing to turn up to your 2pm class and respond, when asked about the stain on your shirt, that it is butterbean purée.
4. Organic Deli Cafe
Tucked away in the alley between Tesco and Gloucester Green lies a fab little café with plenty of veggie options – no less than five different options for sourdough sandwiches! Once again, the drawback here is the price (although I sympathise with the challenge of being a small business owner in the current economic climate), as one such sandwich costs nine Great British pounds. I will say, though, that the Organic Deli’s (£4) chocolate cookie was one of the best things I have ever eaten in my life. A cookie can be a lunch; it’s a subjective concept.
3. The Alpha Bar
One of my all-time Oxford favourites is the Alpha Bar, located inside the Covered Market. I’ve tried and enjoyed both the build-your-own bowls and the hot meal options, many of which are vegetarian, hearty, and delicious. If tofu is your protein of choice, then the Alpha Bar is the place for you. I will also note, though, for accompanying carnivores, that on this particular day the Alpha Bar was also serving coq-au-vin and beef rendang curry. But once again, it’s just not the kind of thing you can afford to rely on regularly (affordability is coming, stay tuned), since a small bowl costs £8.
2. Gloucester Green
“This was the no-brainer. This was the banker, this was the one that couldn’t fail, this was the one that’s never failed” – Gary Neville, I would imagine, if he ever visited Gloucester Green. If you want my specific recommendations, the £7 vegan momo from Momo King are insanely good. £7 appears to be the going rate, and for that price, you could also get the vegan plate from Ceylon Spicy, or the gnocchi from Polentista Italian, if spice isn’t your thing. Since my last visit, it seems a stand devoted to tiramisu has also appeared, which is also a vegetarian option. As I say, lunch is a subjective concept. But I am forced to discount points on account of the difficulty of finding seating during busy months, and the unpleasantness of eating outdoors during the cold, quieter months. And if, like my sister, you possess a mortal fear of birds, this is one to avoid altogether.
1. Salsas del Sol
We’ve made it. The GOAT. £6 to fill a small bowl, which I can personally attest fits enough for a filling lunch (especially if you detour to the Organic Deli for a cookie, then you’re really cooking). Pictured above is my most recent effort, which also serves as proof of their leniency regarding overfilling. The serving station is refilled with fresh options for your bowls or pitas, which include halloumi, aubergine, mushrooms, and chickpeas, as well as a whole host of different grains and salad bases. You can help yourself to sauces, and there’s no surcharge for hummus. If you are a vegetarian who hasn’t been to Salsas del Sol yet, trust me, I have found your new favourite lunch.
Student Life
Exclusive: Oxford Union announces Trinity term card
Cherwell can exclusively reveal that former Home Secretary Sir James Cleverley, President of Goldman Sachs John E. Waldron, and rapper Tinie Tempah are all set to speak at the Oxford Union this term.
The debating society will see political figures such as Prime Minister Kamil Idris of Sudan, who, late last year, proposed an initiative to end the Sudanese civil war to the United Nations. Other speakers include the UN Special Rapporteur on the Occupied Palestinian Territories, Francesca Albanese, journalist Mehdi Hasan, and the US Senator for Vermont, Democrat Bernie Sanders, who is set to appear virtually.
In addition to this, the Union will host dance coach and TV personality Abby Lee Miller, who gained notoriety on the American reality television show Dance Moms, as well as the former Welsh footballer Ian Rush.
The Trinity term card will include a debate on “whether today’s youth activism is driving meaningful political change or increasingly slipping into performative visibility”. This will see speakers such as Oxford content creator Oliver’s Oxford, Director of the Good Law Project, Jolyon Maugham, and British politician Fiona Lali.
A debate on “whether Israel has ever sincerely pursued peace with Palestine, or whether the peace process has been more symbolic than real” will feature University of Exeter Professor Ilan Pappé, General Secretary of the Palestinian National Initiative, Mustafa Barghouti, and former Israeli politician, Einat Wilf.
There will also be a visit from the controversial Reform Party candidate in the highly-publicised Denton and Gorton byelection earlier this year, Matt Goodwin, who will speak in a debate “on whether Reform is a credible governing force capable of delivering change, or a protest movement better suited to opposition”. He will be joined by speakers including the former leader of the Scottish National Party in Parliament, Ian Blackford, and Liberal Democrat politician Josh Babarinde.
The Union’s term card will also include social events, such as an Al-Andalus-inspired ball taking place on 29th May, and a Union House Party promising cheap drinks and beer pong on 9th May.
In addition, on the 23rd-24th May, the debating society will host The Prince, a play written by Oxford graduate Kofo Braithwaite that follows a fresher’s involvement with the Oxford Union.
Regarding the forthcoming term, Union President Arwa Elrayess told Cherwell: “I’m so proud to present the Oxford Union’s Trinity 2026 Term Card… I hope this term is defined by substance, strong governance, and real momentum.”
Student Life
On being an introvert – Cherwell
As a university characterised by exemplary achievements, Oxford tends to cultivate an environment where you feel you must perform at your best in every aspect of life – and your social life is no exception. This pressure is more apparent than ever to the introvert. College activities like attending BOPs, or even meals in hall, can start to feel like checking off a box, one that proves you are meeting the minimum social criteria expected of an adequate student. Hearing other people in your accommodation getting ready for Indie Fridays while you’re watching Friday Night Dinner alone is enough to make anyone feel like they are somehow failing. And yet, despite this ever-present pressure to socialise, some of us find ourselves deliberately choosing the latter option most evenings.
Moving from home to a new city, meeting new people, and adjusting to new routines can be a jarring transition for any student, but above all the introvert. After hearing one of my (more extroverted) friends thrive during her university’s freshers’ week, I hoped that my experience would be just as positive. But, as someone who prefers spending most of my time alone, spending day after day talking to multiple strangers, the challenge of not instantly forgetting their names proved to be taxing. Although meeting as many people as possible is a perfectly reasonable way to settle in at university, I quickly tired of the repeated “what is your name?” and “what do you study?” cycle. In fact, I found myself oddly frustrated at this sensible series of initial questions. I could not understand how so many people seemed to be having the time of their lives with people they barely knew; this is where the introversion-extroversion distinction became so clearly apparent to me.
Most people acknowledge these terms in an overly simplified way, with the prevalent stereotypes being that extroverts are the ‘life of the party’ while introverts remain the ‘wallflowers’ (that is, if they attend the party at all). The reality is more complex than this: introverts don’t necessarily avoid social interaction but rather prefer the company of a smaller group in an environment that is not so overstimulating, resulting in a general reluctance to go into any potentially overwhelming situations. It stands to say that a bustling place like Oxford tends to favour the extrovert. I distinctly remember having a conversation where I was complaining to a friend about the concept of networking, to which she responded networking is “just talking to people”, not realising that is, in fact, the part I find offputting.
It’s not the talking that introverts hate, though. Rather, it’s the constantly being surrounded by people, the expectation that you join various societies and go on regular nights-out, while also getting to know everyone in your college. Suddenly, you go from being in the comfort of family members and friends to living in a building with close to 100 other students, all of whom you have never met. With everyone forming friendships so quickly, it can be hard not to feel that you are falling behind, and no one wants to be seen as boring. Despite the reputation of Oxford being a rigorously academic place, saying to people that I was looking forward to visiting the libraries more than meeting new people brought judgemental looks from some of my peers. This, in addition to the romanticisation of university as the ‘best years of your life’, when it is not an environment that is catered towards you, can leave an introvert feeling out of place.
Although university is widely expected to be the pinnacle of your social life, it is often described as a lonely time for a lot of students. An article recently published by The Guardian reported that two thirds of university students experience loneliness at university, with many attributing this to the set-up of their accommodation not encouraging social interactions. Perhaps this is unsurprising. With greater independence also comes the greater responsibility to seek out friendships in a more intentional manner, rather than relying on school settings to facilitate this. Yet Oxford’s collegiate structure and regular events seem to compensate for this transition – many people find their friendships from being part of the same college, a characteristic that most other universities lack. And despite being an introvert and feeling largely content alone, all humans require some social interaction. Oxford does feel like it promotes some performative sociability. Being part of a college community means you are constantly confronted with people who seem to have more friends, are part of more societies and go to more events than you, furthering the feeling that you should be doing more – a feeling that I expect is not unfamiliar for most Oxford students. However, the college communal set-up does have its benefits, as it does encourage connection and serves as a helpful reminder to introverts that there is value to having friends to share the highs and lows with.
Even with that in mind, it can feel natural to be envious of extroverts in such a setting. There feels like an invisible boundary between the people who thrive in Oxford’s social climate and those who find it overwhelming. Outside of university, the separation is rarely this distinct. Instead, we have to adapt to the situation we are presented with, which is why I, one of the most introverted people I know, am often assumed to be an extrovert by my peers. Yet Oxford is not exactly optimal for extroverts either: long hours studying alone in a library, with nothing but the sound of occasional coughing, are likely to be much more difficult for those who prefer to be surrounded by the chatter of their peers. And during life after Oxford, there will be situations in which being an introvert is beneficial. It is likely that the transition to living alone and being more independent after university will be much easier for the introvert than the extrovert. In my experience, there is some comfort in knowing that no matter where you go – to another university or another country (or both as I am intending to do) – you will be able to shape your experience as you please, without relying on the presence of others as an extrovert might do.
So, to any introverts, do not fret about Oxford being the best years of your life. Whilst it is important to embrace the ‘university experience’, you will have many years ahead of you to soak in your own company without the constant pressure to present a thriving social life. My advice would be this: do try to go on the occasional pub trip or night out (it’ll do you good, I promise), but also remember that an evening alone reading, crocheting, or simply rotting in bed, can be an evening well spent.
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