Following Varsity’s most recent exploration of our university’s unique clothing tradition, I investigated how Cambridge student’s gown-wearing has changed over the generations. My findings are unlikely to surprise; students have consistently grumbled at the pomp of wearing gowns and questioned the purpose. However, there was a notable period in the mid-20th century where Cantabridgians’ relationship with gowns was revolutionised.

With gowns nowadays relegated to matriculation, formals, and – to those fortunate enough – being Deaned, there once was a time where your gown would be tied to your hip (or shoulders, I guess?). Running late and rushing to a supervision in 1960? Don’t forget your gown! If you didn’t want to be tested on last night’s hasty reading, forgetting your gown would be a sure way to get out of the supervision; you wouldn’t be let in. Students were expected to wear their gowns whenever on the move and, to police this, proctors and their ‘bulldogs’ (the University police) would patrol the city centre to catch non-conformists. As if it wasn’t bad enough, students hoping to crack on with some serious study in the UL were made to borrow a gown on the occasions that they forgot their own (probably inaccurate, but I imagine a smelly lost property box that one would have to fish through). Perhaps even stricter than the proctors, Varsity reported that UL “gown-spotters” were so overzealous in their application of the University’s statutes that they tried to deny entry to the Chancellor; clemency was granted upon their realisation of the “unknown don” before them.

“With gowns nowadays relegated to matriculation, formals, and - to those fortunate enough - being Deaned, there once was a time where your gown would be tied to your hip (or shoulders, I guess?)”

These oppressive conditions were not tolerated by the entire student population. In 1961, some brave boys marched down King’s Parade in protest of the perpetual gown-wearing that plagued student life. Such an attitude towards gowns makes one wonder if the veterinary students that threw their gowns over a puddle for Queen Elizabeth’s visit in 1955 were more looking for an excuse to not wear one rather than being chivalrous…

Like the students, the University took the spirit of contemporary hit Bob Dylan and acknowledged that the times they are a-changing. In the same year as this famous song, Regent House voted 285 – 118 to loosen the rules surrounding gown-wearing. Whilst still a necessity in the UL, formal hall, and Chapel (oh, and the uncumbersome daytime period in general…), students no longer had to bring their gowns when popping out in the evening. A year on from the seismic change of 1966, Varsity investigated the impact of such reform.

Boringly, the Senior Proctor informed Varsity that the number of technical infringements of the University’s regulations had plummeted over the course of the year, thus implying great relief upon the disciplinary services charged with punishing such misbehaving students. As the Senior Proctor dutifully pointed out, the decreased pressure meant that more resources could be given to the Motor Proctor’s office to deal with students not handing in their licenses at the beginning and end of each term.

“No longer were students ‘[sticking] out like sore thumbs as they [carried] their gowns for fear of being fined 6s. 8d’”

More interestingly, Varsity reported that there had been a notable improvement in town-gown relations. No longer were students “[sticking] out like sore thumbs as they [carried] their gowns for fear of being fined 6s. 8d”. The dropping of the “different tag”, Varsity stated, meant the town had less reason to be infuriated and students could blend into the city community.

Some view the gown as a symbol of Cambridge’s unnecessarily elitist clinging to tradition and privilege. Others like the gown – seeing it as a signal of academic achievement, or a Hogwartsian fantasy played out. Whatever your view, I am fairly confident of one thing: wearing it everywhere would be a nightmare.