What the subfusc is Matriculation?

I've been told countless times by friends and family that, when they picture me at Oxford, they inevitably think of Hogwarts. And although, unfortunately, there are countless ways in which that is not true (it would be much faster to ride a broom to class than a bike, and there have been a few customer service representatives I'd have liked to hex), there are times when even I look around and realize that Harry Potter is still alive and well at the University here.

One of these such occasions occurred this past Saturday, on the day of Matriculation. If your initial reaction to that word takes you somewhere between feeling inadequate about your own understanding and indignantly sure that no such word exists outside of some variety of obscure science, then we were right in the same boat until last week. But Oxford has a funny way of imparting all sorts of random knowledge outside one's subject area (mostly in the realm of stuffy anachronistic terms like "matriculation"), so I now have quite a handle on what the whole affair is about and can therefore impart it to you. Just think of the possible obscure European education trivia questions you can answer in the future!

Given that Oxford has existed since the 13th century and therefore long outdates the establishment of standardized tests like the SAT, ACT, GRE, GMAT, MCAT, and every other combination of letters that can possibly be concocted to terrify students, the dons (administrators) used to require a way of ensuring that every student entering the University was up to scratch and not some fraud who'd fudged their application. In keeping with the stuffy tradition of European scholarship, they naturally settled on an oral examination in Latin, which every Oxford man (because they were all men) would have to pass before being officially recognized as a student here.

Thank goodness, that practice fell by the wayside some centuries ago (or there would be far less than 20,000 students every year!). However, Oxford isn't a place that likes to fully let go of any tradition, no matter how anachronistic, and so every student is still matriculated every year. But the current ceremony bears little resemblance to the past examinations. Nowadays, the only Latin that's involved is the formal presentation by the dean of the students to be matriculated, and the Associate Chancellor's recognition of the new students as matriculated. More than anything, the day involves a lot of waiting in line, as each student is checked in and their subfusc evaluated (see below), then walking in lines to the Sheldonian Theatre, which is an Oxford landmark, and then sitting in lines to be spoken to by the Chancellor, and finally standing in lines to have the Freshers' picture be taken for each college. All in all, it looks something like this (professional picture, not mine, as cameras are not technically allowed):

Now do you see why I made mention of Harry Potter? The penguin costume that every student is wearing in this picture is called subfusc, which is another great and greatly outdated Oxford tradition. No one here seems to know the etymology of the word, but a cursory Google search suggested that the term arose in the 18th century from the Latin (always with the Latin!) for subfuscus, from "sub" meaning "somewhat" and "fuscus" meaning "dark brown". Ironically, it can also be used as a rather negatively-connoted adjective, meaning "dull and gloomy".

Each University in the United Kingdom has its own slightly different interpretation of the classic garb, but at Oxford it is comprised of a dark suit for men with a white bow tie, or dark pants/skirt/hose/shoes and a white collared shirt for women with a velvet ribbon tied at the throat. This is worn under the gown, which is hip-length for undergraduates and knee-length for graduate students, and has these curious wings from the shoulders, which most students refer to quite scientifically as "flappies". To give you an example, see the following picture of my flatmates and I from Saturday:

HARRY POTTER ALL OVER AGAIN. We're not the only people who think it's curious, apparently, because every Matriculation Day, countless tourists flock to Oxford to awkwardly snap photos of us as we walk between our colleges and the Sheldonian. If some of those lucky tourists peruse their pictures in the future, they'll find me in the background, sticking my tongue out and making other obnoxious faces to counter their paparazzi status. Hey, I've never claimed to be mature in every way!

Unofficially, Matriculation is also a day on which every new fresher boycotts work in favor of hanging out with friends. So after the ceremony finally finished and we'd finally taken our freshers' photo, I went to brunch with some fellow Brasenostrils, and then took a tour of some Oxford pubs. My roommate Heather (on the right in the picture above) made reservations at a swanky French restaurant in town, and 8 of us went out for dinner to celebrate our official status as new Oxford students:

Besides all of the brouhaha of Matriculation, pretty much everything here has proceeded as normal. There have been classes, homework, lots of good food, hangouts with friends, rowing practices, and, of course, lots and lots of rain. This coming week, however, will be (as my Aussie friends would say) a doozy. I've got the formal Rhodes "Coming Up" Dinner on Friday, a black tie affair that promises to be delicious and decorous, and then I'm heading to Ghent, Belgium this weekend to see my father.
So there you have it. I hope that you are now a bit more educated on British educational history (or at least motivated to go pop in one of the Harry Potter DVDs), and stay tuned for an (even more) international entry.