Trading In High Heels For Uggs And Embracing The Life Of The Swug

It’s spring of my senior year, and I have come to know a whole new way of life. It is whispered about at parties and on early mornings on the Comm. Ave. bus-it is even talked about in the cramped bathroom of Mary Ann’s. It’s the sensation sweeping Chestnut Hill. I’m embracing the swug life. Not to be confused with thug life, swug life is its own phenomenon. For those of you fabulous little freshmen who are still on top of the world, just you wait: the impending decline is upon you. Swug-for those of you unfamiliar with the term that is daily becoming far too real-stands for senior washed up girl, and it’s what I am all about.

Let me preface this by saying that the always fabulous Leandra Medine, whom I have written about in previous columns-the self proclaimed “Man Repeller”-recently put a post on her blog entitled, “Messy in a Good Way,” so I am not alone in my love of the swug life. To be fair, the fashion aspect of swug is only one facet of the phenomenon, but it is crucial nonetheless. And if a fashion goddess like Leandra Medine is on board, I no longer have to feel guilty about it.

A swug can be spotted in her natural habitat of Chestnut Hill by a variety of markings. If you are a bright and sunny freshman girl with an uncanny amount of enthusiasm, beware. It is not suggested that you approach the swug too closely or rapidly, for the swug is known to scowl or squawk at young predators. One sign of the swug is her love of Uggs (the swug loves a rhyme). As is widely accepted by now, Uggs are some of the most hideous footwear known to man. But damn are they comfortable-and did I mention warm? Nothing says swug life like trading in your beautiful leather boots, fabulously chic wellies, or dare we mention heeled booties for your tried-and-true, salt-stained Uggs. You probably bought them in high school, and they are too hideous and stupidly expensive to justify replacing. Let’s face it, there just ain’t nothing like a swug in Uggs.

Now, these Uggs are not enough to identify the swug. Some poor unknowing underclassman or a mini swug-in-training might also be found wearing the offensive footwear. Said swug may have yoga pants tucked into them-actually, said swug will definitely have yoga pants tucked into them. While some fancy swugs may have some nice Lulu leggings, other swugs will go with a true flared yoga pant that will not fit nicely into their Uggs. Additionally, they will not pretend to try to tuck them in nicely. A swug never apologizes.

This outfit is topped off with bulky winter socks, some sort of t-shirt, and probably an oversized sweatshirt. The swug will not wear contacts, and she will not wash her hair, and most of all, she will not touch her makeup bag. After many long years of worshipping her makeup bag full of finely cultivated products to enhance her natural features and highlight her skin tone, the swug will decide to give this old friend a break. The thought of waking up even five minutes earlier to apply even a hint of blush feels too laborious for the swug who was definitely at the aforementioned Mary Ann’s far too late the night before swigging Miller High Lifes.

Plus, whom is the swug trying to impress anyway? Her fellow swugs? All of the guys in her grade whom she pretty much already knows? These fellow senior men are either all tied up in a relationship, probably with a younger lady, or completely undateable. Due to all of these factors, senior ladies just aren’t going to waste their expensive makeup on day-to-day living. Everyone in Lower can see how little effort they’ve already made-swugs don’t waste time and energy.

But most importantly, swugs have better things to do, things that mean that it is okay to put their fashion lives on the back burner, if only temporarily. For most swugs, the rest of their lives mean getting dressed for work everyday. No yoga pants. No ponytails. Lots of makeup. These prospects sound exhausting. Swugs deserve to enjoy this time in their lives. Swugs need to spend time with their friends before they scatter around the country post-graduate. They need to relish in the joy of deciding that jeans are too much effort. They need to apply for jobs, grants, grad schools, fellowships, postgraduate volunteer work, or contemplate the meaning of their swug lives. Swugs need to study, they need to work hard and play hard. The swug life is a beautiful life, and I am sticking to it. It’s the perfect moment in a senior woman’s life when she is over trying to impress her fellow peers and really has the time to revel in that freedom and be comfortable in her own swug skin. Don’t call me washed up-call me smart. In the wise words of Donna Meagle and Tom Haverford, “Treat yo’ self” to the swug life.