College football is an unexpected hobby of mine that begins and ends with one team: my alma mater, the University of Alabama’s Crimson Tide.
The reason I went to Alabama is long and complicated, starting with hoop skirts and an obsession with Faulkner and ending with seersucker and a distaste for Ole Miss. This particular reason for attendance–my love of Southern culture, manifested in literature–dissolved early on, as I exchanged my career aspirations in publishing for pre-law dreams, but one thing stuck: a deep dipping in pure Alabama culture, which is ripe with football as religion.
At our freshman orientation, the obnoxiously energetic senior volunteers jumped around and did a song and dance about all of the national championships we had, which apparently was a big deal. They turned me to and shouted, “How many national championships dooo weee haaave!”
The entire campus stopped dead in their tracks; Alabama fans worldwide heard pins drop.
Since then, I learned that the number is actually twelve, or was, since we’ve added two since then, for an impressive fourteen national championships. I came to the U of A a sports-hater and left a vehement football fan, unashamed to scream, “KILL HIIIIM!”, urging our defense to sack the other team’s quarterback. I will talk smack to 300 pound drunk men, which is never a good idea.
The one thing I don’t love, though, is this obligation to wear Bama-sanctioned gear, available at any Sports Authority in the state. I’m a style blogger, dammit; I need more than this.
So here’s my answer to enthusiastic Alabama football style: crimson and houndstooth done in a way that’s classic and stylish.
I wore this to the meeting at the University of Tennessee, which we knew would be a blowout, and was. However, one 300 pound drunk man I can handle. 90,000? I thought it was not just stylish, but a bit safe to tone down the Bama bragging.
The crimson just so happens to coincide with two of my favorite fall trends: oxblood and colored denim. The houndstooth is projected in the abstract as a Breton stripe sweater. Classic, no?My sprinter thighs, in their full glory. God forbid ever getting featured on the Sartorialist.
And look, we usually win. But even if we don’t the game? We’ll always win when it comes to college football fashion. It’s just easier when you’re dealt rich colors and classic prints. I’m not sure I could rock UT Orange quite the same. It’s better on our dog, Magnolia.2