Okay so there’s this thing happening right now where everyone’s trying to look like they have a PhD in art history and honestly? I’m kind of here for it. Not because I actually have a PhD in anything – my graphic design degree barely counts – but because I’ve been accidentally dressing like a broke graduate student for years and apparently that’s chic now.
I first noticed it when my coworker Emma came into the office wearing these incredible oversized tortoiseshell glasses, a perfectly crisp white button-down tucked into wide-leg trousers, and her hair in this effortless-but-not-really bun. She looked like she could casually discuss Russian literature over coffee and then design a killer brand identity before lunch. When I complimented her outfit, she said she was going for “intellectual but make it interesting.” Mission accomplished, honestly.
Then I started seeing it everywhere. Those Miu Miu ads with models in chunky glasses and slouchy blazers, looking like they’d just discovered a rare first edition at Powell’s Books. Street style photos of women in structured coats carrying actual books instead of tiny purses. Even my Instagram feed got invaded by influencers suddenly posing with copies of Joan Didion and wearing reading glasses they definitely don’t need.
But here’s the thing – this isn’t just fashion people randomly deciding that glasses are cute. There’s something deeper going on, and I think it has to do with what we’re finding attractive right now. After years of everything being about showing as much skin as possible or looking like a walking Sephora advertisement, there’s something genuinely refreshing about an aesthetic that says “what’s sexy is what I’m thinking about.”
I mean, think about it. When’s the last time you were genuinely attracted to someone because they seemed smart? Not just book-smart, but actually curious about the world, someone who might know random fascinating things or have opinions worth hearing? That’s what this whole scholarly aesthetic is tapping into, and honestly it’s about time.
The tricky part is doing it without looking like you’re wearing a costume to an academic-themed party. Because let’s be real, there’s a fine line between “effortlessly intellectual” and “I bought these glasses at Urban Outfitters specifically for this outfit.” I’ve definitely crossed that line a few times while figuring this out.
My first attempt was… not great. I threw on this vintage tweed blazer I found at Goodwill, paired it with a pencil skirt and fake glasses from a drugstore, and basically looked like I was auditioning for a community theater production of “Secretary.” My roommate took one look and said, “Are you going to a theme party?” Not the vibe I was going for.
The problem was I was thinking too literally about it. Like, oh scholarly aesthetic means I need to look like I stepped out of a 1950s library. But the really good versions of this trend aren’t about copying some vintage professor stereotype – they’re about taking elements that suggest intelligence and curiosity and making them feel contemporary and personal.
What actually works is way more subtle. It’s about precision rather than performance. Like, a really well-fitted button-down that happens to reference menswear tailoring traditions, but styled in a way that feels completely modern. Or wide-leg trousers that have that architectural quality – you know, like someone who thinks about proportions and structure, which makes sense whether you’re designing a building or putting together an outfit.
I’ve been experimenting with this for months now, partly because it fits my budget constraints better than a lot of other trends. You don’t need expensive pieces to look scholarly – in fact, some of the best elements come from thrift stores or your dad’s closet or that one vintage shop that always has too many blazers. It’s more about finding pieces that have a certain quality of thoughtfulness to them.
My best scholarly-aesthetic outfit happened kind of by accident. I was running late for a client meeting and grabbed this oversized white Oxford shirt I’d thrifted, tucked it into high-waisted black trousers, threw on my actual prescription glasses instead of contacts because my eyes were tired, and slicked my hair back into a low bun because I hadn’t washed it. Added my one good pair of loafers and called it professional enough.
But something about the combination worked really well. The shirt was crisp but not precious, the proportions felt deliberate, and wearing my real glasses instead of trying to hide behind contacts made me feel more like myself. I looked put-together but not trying-too-hard, professional but interesting. The client actually asked if I’d studied architecture, which I took as a compliment even though the answer is definitely no.
That’s when I realized the key isn’t trying to look like a specific type of smart person – it’s about looking like yourself, but the version of yourself that’s confident in your own knowledge and curiosity. The clothes are just supporting that energy, not creating it from nothing.
The pieces that work best are ones with a certain architectural quality. Not literal architecture, but clothes that show someone thought about structure and proportion. A blazer with really clean lines. Trousers that hang perfectly. A shirt that fits exactly right in the shoulders. It’s about precision, like every element was chosen for a reason.
Color palette matters too. This isn’t about wearing all black like you’re cosplaying a beatnik poet, but there’s something to be said for a more restrained approach to color. Lots of navy, cream, burgundy, forest green – colors that feel substantial and considered. The kind of palette that suggests you have more important things to think about than whether your outfit matches the latest TikTok trend.
And can we talk about accessories for a second? This is where I see people mess it up most often. The scholarly aesthetic isn’t about adding a bunch of bookish props – you don’t need a vintage briefcase and fake reading glasses and a fountain pen to make your point. It’s more about choosing accessories that feel substantial and well-made. A good watch. Simple jewelry that looks like it might have a story. Maybe a scarf tied with the kind of precision that suggests you actually know how scarves work.
The makeup and hair thing is interesting too. It’s not about looking like you rolled out of bed, but it’s also not about full Instagram glam. More like… polished but not precious. A really good base, maybe one strong element like perfectly applied lipstick or subtly defined eyes, but not both. Hair that looks intentional even when it’s simple – a low bun that’s neat but not too perfect, or waves that look like you air-dried them but somehow they came out exactly right.
What I love most about this trend is that it feels sustainable in a way that a lot of fashion trends don’t. Like, you’re not going to look back in five years and cringe at photos of yourself looking scholarly and put-together. These are classic elements that just happen to feel particularly relevant right now. A good blazer is always going to be useful. Well-fitted trousers never go out of style. Quality basics are an investment that makes sense regardless of trends.
Plus, and this might sound cheesy, but leaning into this aesthetic has actually made me more interested in being the kind of person who deserves to dress this way. I’ve been reading more, partly because carrying around a book feels like part of the look but mostly because I got genuinely interested in the books I was carrying around as props. I’ve been more thoughtful about having actual opinions instead of just agreeing with whatever’s trending. It’s like the clothes gave me permission to take my own thoughts more seriously.
There’s something powerful about dressing like someone who knows things, especially as a woman in a creative field where people sometimes assume you’re more about aesthetics than substance. When I show up to meetings looking scholarly and prepared, people seem more inclined to actually listen to my ideas instead of just nodding politely at the pretty girl they hired to make things look nice.
The best part is it works with my budget constraints. I’m not trying to keep up with fast fashion cycles or buy expensive trendy pieces that’ll be irrelevant next season. I’m building a wardrobe of thoughtful, well-made basics that happen to project the image of someone competent and interesting. That’s honestly more valuable than any specific trend.
My friend Jessica, who works at a publishing house, says she’s noticed guys approaching her more at parties when she mentions her job. “Five years ago saying I worked in books was conversation death,” she told me. “Now people want to know what I’m reading, what I think about whatever literary scandal is trending. It’s like having thoughts is suddenly attractive again.”
Maybe that’s what I love most about this whole scholarly aesthetic thing – it’s not just about looking smart, it’s about actually valuing intelligence and curiosity in ourselves and other people. In a world where everyone’s fighting for attention with increasingly dramatic looks, there’s something quietly subversive about suggesting that what’s really attractive is what’s happening inside someone’s head.
And honestly? After years of feeling like I needed to dress louder to be noticed, it’s refreshing to try the opposite approach. Let everyone else fight over the crop tops and platform boots. I’ll be over here in my perfectly fitted blazer, reading actual books and having actual thoughts, looking like someone worth listening to.
Madison’s a Portland-based designer who treats thrift stores like treasure hunts. She writes about dressing well on a real salary—think smart buys, affordable finds, and brutal honesty about what’s worth it. Stylish, broke, and proud of it.
