Letting Go of the Pleated Skirt: On Uniforms and Catholic Girlhood

By Indigo Mapa 

Upon reminiscing about my elementary, middle, and high school years, I thought about the perceptions of an American Catholic schoolgirl. Rebellious, promiscuous, a “faux good girl”, wild. Was it because we had to attend mass almost weekly, or because we were required to take religious studies as a subject? Was it because some of us deliberately chose to go to a gender-exclusive school? Was it because the rules we had to follow were different from non-private schools? Was it because we had a different experience from those who attended public schools?  I was looking too deeply, too close. I realized that the answer to my curiosity might lie in the very tip of the iceberg: our uniforms. 

When applying to high school, I vaguely recall wanting to attend one with a cute uniform. I didn’t want to wear loud colors, for I had already gone through the motions of wearing bright red for most of my childhood; I wanted neutral colors that would pair well with my rather colorful tendency to accessorize. Easy to say, Marymount High School was a winner in that department: gray or navy blue pleated skirts, white or navy blue polo shirts, a dark navy blazer, and brown penny loafers or your sneaker of choice (obviously within the school dress code). I had once gotten reprimanded for wearing pink checkered Vans, but also complimented. I felt and looked expensive, and the prices of each uniform piece backed my feelings up. At the time, it had felt like I had class; it felt like a privilege and an honor to be able to represent a school with a well-known reputation. Despite it sounding like I was surrendering my individuality, I enjoyed the fact that I didn’t have to think about what to wear every single day. 

All the nostalgia suddenly made me think of how uniforms came to be in the first place. After reading several articles and looking through book excerpts and entries, the school uniform dates all the way back to the 16th century in Europe, in English charity schools. Which meant they weren’t originally Catholic! The purpose of the uniform was not for fashion purposes, but to showcase moral discipline and order. Then, in the 17th-19th century, parochial schools became prominent and popular, utilizing the uniform as a way to make business boom. Uniforms became a way of blurring the distinctions between social classes and racial diversity. Additionally, the uniform became a statement of humility and safety for young girls. 

Jumpers and dresses were often simple and popular in the early 20th century. Then came the 50s, when jumpers were paired with blouses in an iconic duo. From the 60s-70s, the jumpers had evolved into plaid skirts, blazers, sweaters, and sometimes pants, opting for a more casual look. This is when nuns also began instilling the knee-length or longer rule. The 80s-90s became revolutionary due to the movements that would spread in America, especially in the 90s, when schools had to adopt uniforms to combat gangs, school violence, and the rise of expensive fashion trends. Today, uniforms have transformed into a healthy mix of functionality and fashion (i.e., skorts, shorts, etc.). Tradition isn’t completely erased, but rather adapted into something accessible. 

My thoughts on the uniform? Hate and love. Which are both strongly polarizing feelings. But I have my reasons. Humans are conditioned to feel like they need to belong. I’ve always been an individualistic person, but I loved the aspect of community and, in my case, girlhood. At times, I didn’t like the cultish feeling of everyone being forced to wear the same thing at the same time in the same way. But, then again, I did decide to be a part of that. I miss the days of saying, “screw it” and rolling my skirt three times underneath my shirt. I miss pairing my skirt with sweatpants and tights when the air gets frigid. I miss stabbing pins into my blazer to let everyone know what I was interested in. I miss the way long-life friendships sparked at lunch tables when another girl and I would violate the dress code.  I miss the weekends and the free-dress days, where I finally get to represent who I truly am. Maybe I just miss the simpler times. 

Despite the angst and pain that came with the hormonal battlefield, also known as a girl’s teenage years, I have to thank the opportunities to become myself that came with it. I’ve fallen in love with the way I dress now, and I have such a clear sense of what I want to wear nowadays. Despite the relief that came with donating my uniforms and never having to look at another pair of penny loafers or gray pleated skirt, the feeling of fabric against my skin stays ingrained in my brain. Despite all the stereotypes that come with being a former Catholic schoolgirl, I have always been rebellious and wild, and I have always loved short skirts.