Scene: the night before the first day of school.

"So, what are you going to wear tomorrow?"

"Dude, I don't know, I, like, really haven't thought about it yet. Maybe my gray dress? What about you?"

"I was thinking of wearing a green sweater and a black skirt....Wait, let

me show you."

It sounds like it could be a scene out of Clueless, the character Cher standing in front of her huge, automatated closet, talking on the phone with her friend Dionne while rotating the hangers. But what might seem like a

conversation out of a bubble-gum eighties-type movie must happen behind closed doors at Harvard.

One of my friends felt it after the first lecture of Gen Ed 105 (note to first-years: this is a notoriously easy, totally great senior-filled class that meets twice a week in Paine Hall). Surrounded by fashion plates, she wondered whether she should get more decked out to attend lecture. (She was wearing a pair of khakis, a nice T-shirt, and carrying a Kate Spade bag.)

I didn't understand why my roommates got dressed up on the first day of school when I was a first-year, having come from a laid-back, casual high school in Northern California. I had thrown on the first t-shirt and pair of jeans that were in my dresser--as I had done for my 12 other first days of school. Practically everyone else in my high school had done the same.

But over the last two years, something has changed. The conversation above took place not just behind any closed doors, but the closed doors of my own room, between my roommate and me.

Perhaps I have become more frivolous. Perhaps more superficial and materialistic. But then does that mean that Harvard makes people frivolous, superficial, and materialistic? I hope not.

If not, then we need another explanation for the first-day fashion parade. There are a few good reasons for this trend, and they're different for each class.

For first-years, it's the first day in a new environment. It doesn't hurt to check in the mirror one more time to make sure that you didn't get toothpaste on your shirt. Bad hygiene habits might spell the end of a budding friendship in your Ec 10 section.

And how "cool" you are still remains to be determined. Thought you left all that behind in high school? Think again.

In a less harsh and more realistic way of looking at the situation, being friends with someone that cares about their appearance is probably a good thing--it shows that a person has enough self-respect to care for his or her appearance.

So, for first-years, perhaps the fashion parade is about making friends. Is that frivolous, superficial and materialistic? Maybe the premise is, but the friendships founded during your first year probably aren't.

But what about sophomores? Are they not equally guilty of the dress up phenomenon?

Part of the reason sophomores dress up is to distinguish themselves from the first-years. If you take two twins and dress one in shorts and a T-shirt and the other in a suit, the one wearing the suit would probably look older. You haven't been truly humbled until you have been mistaken for a first year at the activities fair during registration of your junior year (yes, that was me a week ago). It's nice to have people assess your age--and hopefully your experience with the Harvard scene--correctly.

If first-years want to make friends and sophomores want to look old, what about juniors? I regressed--it was third grade and the first day of school was the most exciting event in months. And part of that excitement was the new outfit I would get to wear for the first day of school, along with the new teachers, the new kids, and the third graders' spot at the playground.

In approaching my third year here, I realized that I pretty much knew what I was getting into--had the concepts of sectioning and sourcebooks, TFs and tutorials down pat. Nothing was new. But wearing a nice outfit made the day unusual, made it the start of something new, a feeling that for me--as a junior--has become a rare occasion here.

Finally, the seniors, who with their recruiting ties and med school interviews, are getting ready to move on to the Real World, to Life After Harvard, as the people at Let's Go put it. After college, they enter the land of suits and early mornings and parties that don't stink (literally). And for that, they have to be ready. The first day of school is just practice for that important deal.

In spite of, or maybe because of the multiple rationales that students at Harvard might have for getting dressed up, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being kind of a priss for getting all dolled up on Tuesday.

Then I remembered the prayer my mother said after she helped me get ready for the first day of kindergarten. She said that she wanted me to listen to my teachers and enjoying learning from them, and wished me success from that day on. In light of her hopes, a skirt is more than just a skirt. It becomes a hope for a good year and a respect for learning. And that's something that is definitely not frivolous, superficial or materialistic.