If uni stereotypes were Halloween costumes: Glasgow edition

Forget panic-buying accessories at dawn – your degree is the costume


Halloween in Glasgow means one thing: Watching ghosts of your dignity drift past Hive in last night’s costume. But fear not: Instead of panic-ordering fake blood at 2am, we’ve done the hard work for you.

Here’s every Glasgow uni, reimagined as a Halloween costume. Scarily accurate.

University of Glasgow: The pretentious vampire

Half human, half dissertation on late capitalism. This student rises only after sunset (or a 9am lecture) and survives solely on oat milk and superiority. They lurk in Level 5 of the library, waiting to suck the life out of anyone who misuses “semantics.”

Their costume consists of a cloak made from a charity shop curtain, cravat of academic tears, and Foucault quotes scrawled in eyeliner.

Bonus points if you study: Philosophy, English lit, or anything ending in “-ology.”

Strathclyde: The roadman ghost

You’ll hear them before you see them — the haunting rustle of Nike Tech fleece through Merchant City. They haunt vape shops and Greggs, calling everyone “bro” even in the afterlife.

Costume kit: Tracksuit, mullet, haunted vape pen emitting ectoplasm, and an ASDA bag of mystery.

Bonus points if you study: Engineering, business, or “being pure sound.”

Glasgow Caledonian: The hot girl witch

The baddie of the broomstick scene. She’ll curse your situationship, then post a TikTok titled “Hot girl protection spell.” Can manifest a 2:1 and a free shot.

Costume kit: Glittery wand, black mini dress, Stanley cup as cauldron, and pink-tinted sunglasses for vibe maintenance.

Bonus points if you study: Psychology, fashion, nursing, or anything you can make into a mood board.

City of Glasgow College: The chaos clown

One minute they’re at their hospitality or retail shift, the next they’re in the club dressed as a sexy banana. Lives on caffeine, chaos, and “yeah I’ll go out for one.” They might not show up to lectures — but they’ll definitely show up to Firewater and Manuka.

Costume kit: Clown makeup smudged from last night, Monster can, a fake nose that honks every time your ex texts.

Bonus points if you study: Hospitality, media, or “vibes.”

Royal Conservatoire of Scotland: The dramatic phantom

Will start crying in Tesco and call it “performance art.” You’ll find them monologuing about their childhood trauma to a busker on Sauchiehall Street.

Costume kit: Velvet cloak, opera mask, and a prop skull (optional but encouraged). Bonus points if you burst into song mid-argument.

Bonus points if you study: Acting, musical theatre, or “the human condition.”

Glasgow School of Art: The haunted painter

They don’t do costumes — they’re covered in paint, fake blood, self-doubt and existential dread, the GSA student’s idea of a costume is “me, but ironic.” They describe their look as “postmodern decay.”

Costume kit: Beret dipped in irony, thrifted smock, tote bag full of emotional baggage, and glitter made of crushed dreams.

Bonus points if you study: Fine art, architecture, theatre, or anything you can turn into a metaphor.

West College Scotland: The undead commuter

They’ve been on the 900 bus since the dawn of time. Sustained by sausage rolls and rage, they shuffle into class like extras from The Walking Dead.

Costume kit: Greggs bag, under-eye shadow (natural or applied), and a railcard you’d sell your soul to replace.

Bonus points if you study: Anything that starts before 10am.

University of the West of Scotland: The cursed DJ

They’ve got decks, confidence, and a SoundCloud no one’s listened to. You’ll find them spinning tracks at 4am in a haunted flat kitchen, muttering “the sesh never dies” — because it actually doesn’t. They’ll outlive the zombie apocalypse purely by still being awake from last night.

Costume kit: Vintage windbreaker, fake decks (a cereal box works), sunglasses indoors, and a spirit literally trapped in their USB stick.

Bonus points if you study: Music tech, events management, or eternal partying.

So, whether you’re a caffeine-fuelled philosopher, a nightlife cryptid, or a West End poltergeist— your uni already is your costume. Just add fake blood and you’re sorted.