We’re nearing the end of August; “the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time,” as Sylvia Plath wrote. Before long, children will be returning to their boarding houses – some familiar with the routine, others picking up a badged blazer for the first time that for the next few years will become part of their daily uniform.
Some uniforms can be recognized from across a school quad: the long blue coat and yellow socks of Christ’s Hospital, the straw hat of Harrow, the black tailcoats and pinstriped trousers of Eton. Others are more understated, their significance apparent mainly to those who know the school.
The standard case for school uniform is familiar enough: discipline, equality, fewer distractions. The evidence, however, is mixed. A 2022 study of 6,320 US elementary-school pupils found no overall improvement in social behavior or attendance among children at schools requiring uniforms (although there was some evidence of better attendance among low-income pupils). By contrast, a study of a large urban school district 10 years prior found that adopting uniforms improved attendance in secondary grades, particularly among girls.
Where the research gets more interesting is identity. A 2026 study published in Frontiers in Psychology examined the responses of 210 Chinese school children to different school-uniform designs, finding associations between perceptions of uniform aesthetics, social identification, and psychological capital. It is a relatively small study, but it supports the idea that clothing acts as a visible signal of belonging within a particular group.
That is certainly how some schools describe it. Alice Smith School in Kuala Lumpur says that wearing its uniform properly is part of showing “self-respect and respect for school,” adding that, whether students are on campus or off, the uniform makes “a very visible statement about what belonging to Alice Smith really means.” At the Swiss International Scientific School Dubai, the emphasis is more directly on togetherness: “Our uniform creates a sense of togetherness and belonging, and students across the age groups wear it with pride.” Its red-and-white polo is worn by pupils from Pre-KG through Grade 10, before business attire is introduced for Grades 11 and 12.
Christ’s Hospital in the UK has maintained its Tudor-inspired dress for centuries, with pupils wearing the distinctive long blue coat, breeches or skirt, yellow socks, and white neck bands. It is hardly the most conventional – or fashionable – attire for teenagers, yet in a 2020 survey, 95 percent of pupils voted to keep the 450-year-old uniform.
Meanwhile at Eton, the instantly recognizable current ‘School Dress’ – black tailcoat, waistcoat, pinstriped trousers, and stiff white collar – looks as though it has barely changed in centuries, but the formal regulations date only to 1964. Before that, the dress evolved through convention. Eton’s archives show boys in colorful coats during the 18th century, followed by blue coats and yellow waistcoats in the early 19th century. By around 1850, younger boys wore short jackets and Eton collars while senior boys wore tails and white bow ties.
The modern uniform also has its own hierarchy. King’s Scholars, selected through the King’s Scholarship examination, wear black gowns over their uniform. Pupils in the Sixth Form Select and Eton Society, known as ‘Pops’, can wear “stick-ups” – winged collars with white bow ties – and Pop members can choose their own waistcoat designs. Even within a rigid uniformed institution, particular clothes are used to signal academic achievement or seniority.
Travel beyond Britain and the reasons for particular uniforms become more practical. At Aiglon College in Switzerland, the uniform includes separate categories for sport, expeditions, and skiing, reflecting the reality of school life in the Alps. Gordonstoun in Scotland similarly rejects the idea that one outfit can accommodate everything its pupils do. Its senior-school uniform includes separate day and formal dress (including the option of a kilt), alongside clothing for the school’s extensive sporting and outdoor activities. As the school puts it, “uniform is not about rigid conformity; it is about enabling full participation.”
The approach at Institut Le Rosey is different again. Formal dress is required for dinner, including a jacket and tie for male boarders, making the change into formalwear part of the ritual of the evening rather than simply a daily school requirement.
And then there are schools that decide they do not need a uniform at all. Phillips Exeter Academy in New Hampshire has no formal dress code, leaving students to make their own choices about what is appropriate for school life. Rochester Independent College in England takes a similarly relaxed approach, arguing that without the daily battle over uniform rules, students quickly settle into sensible clothes for the classroom.
Perhaps the most unexpected legacy of these uniforms is how far they have traveled beyond the school gates. The Eton collar, blazer, striped tie, cricket jumper, loafers, and pleated skirt have all become part of the vocabulary of preppy and collegiate dressing, consistently reappearing in fashion collections far removed from the institutions that inspired them (Thom Browne SS27, I’m looking at you). What was designed to remove fashion from school has, in some cases, become fashion in its own right. Perhaps it’s just a reminder of just how closely clothing can become tied to that idea and desire for belonging.
