In true Devil Wears Prada style, these are the types of Newcastle students you’ll spot in Jesmond

If The Devil Wears Prada taught us anything, it’s that fashion is never just fashion. It’s an identity. It creates a hierarchy. It’s the silent, passive-aggressive language understood fluently between girls in Bar Blanc bathrooms and boys queueing outside Tup Tup at 12:07am.

Jesmond, then, is a runway, where everyone is both the audience and also part of the collection.

So, in the spirit of Miranda Priestly, here are the archetypes you will encounter (and inevitably become) somewhere between first-year pres and your final hungover walk through Jesmond Dene.

The Feral Fridays Girl

The Feral Rep Girl exists in a constant state of personal instability.

She’s blonde (allegedly natural) and privately educated. Her Babble & Goose joggers suggest comfort, but her aura suggests she has already emotionally left the group chat.

She begins the night clad in her sacred Feral Fridays tee, to then personally elevate it to Vivienne Westwood. Her eyeliner is sharp, but whether it survives Greys Club is a fate left to sweat.

By 11:30pm her phone is on 3%, her voice is gone, and she is already planning tomorrow’s iced oat caramel like it’s penance for tonight’s decisions.

The ‘Feral rep’ will disappear mid-pres, and reappear with a new group, a new drink, and occasionally a new personality.

Miranda would describe it: “creative exhaustion.”

The Early Second-Year “Rah” Renaissance

This is not a phase. It is a rebrand.

Fresh out of a situationship and into a “focusing on myself” era, they have discovered:

• a Barbour jacket (treated religiously)
• a Ralph Lauren quarter zip
• stacked Bijoux de Mimi jewellery

Zara basics are doing the heavy lifting, but the vision is clear.

Now saying “back home” with intent, they own Birkenstocks and wear them regardless of weather or terrain.

The crate of beer remains as an emotional support relic from first year, only it now exists alongside a vague sense of superiority and is occasionally swapped out for a glass of red.

They are, in many ways, an Andy Sachs post-makeover montage: not quite Miranda, but still slightly dangerous.

Miranda would call it: “evolving taste.”

The GDT Personality

They are not following trends. Trends are following them, slightly out of breath.

The GDT Personality permanently exists in a state of curated nonchalance. Their outfits read as effortless, which would be convincing if not for the very visible hours of deliberation and commitment to being obscure.

Jorts. Scarves worn as belts, bandannas, or something you don’t have the cultural literacy to name. Plaid shirts layered over graphic tees that say something ironic, or nothing at all.

Jewellery is not an accessory, it is infrastructure. Rings, chains, charms: a kind of wearable collage. And somewhere in there, a helix piercing doing more narrative work than your entire degree. They are always slightly ahead of the trend cycle. Which is to say, when you start dressing like them, it’s already over.

There is often a cigarette. Not needed. Not necessary. But correct.

They study something “low maintenance,” something you’ve never quite understood, and is a lot more laid back than the average uni student… always showing up for a side quest.

Emotionally? Unbothered. Romantically? Elusive. Socially? Everywhere and nowhere at once.

Miranda would want their stylist. Immediately.

The Rugby Boy

A study in repetition. A walking uniform.

Chinos. Quarter zip. Gilet. Repeat.

Like cerulean blue in The Devil Wears Prada, this outfit was not chosen. It was assigned by a vast, invisible pipeline of rugby socials and group chats that are best left unexamined.

He owns one pair of “good shoes.” They have seen things.

He says “boys” every third word and “you out?” while actively standing in the club. Sports Wednesdays are his Met Gala and the theme is always the same: volume.

Necks pints with devotion but secretly orders a caramel frappuccino when alone.

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Miranda would describe him: “predictable, but marketable.”

The Tup Tup Palace Princess

If Miranda Priestly went to Tup Tup, this is who she would promote.

She doesn’t go out. She debuts. Wednesday is not sports night, it is her runway.

Social themes are not suggestions, they are doctrine. Whether an army girl, a lifeguard, a goddess, each look is executed with the precision of a Dolce & Gabbana campaign and the budget of an overdraft.

She arrives at Bar Blanc the next day for rollover still immaculate. Slight green hue to the skin? Yes. But the outfit? Untouchable. Biblical. Collection-worthy.

Y2K sunglasses worn indoors, at night, during pres (almost definitely designer) awaiting someone to say “Shaker?”, and every movement is documented via digital camera like an exhibition titled Hot Girl.

Miranda would approve. Reluctantly.

The STEM Student Aesthetic

Unintentionally fashionable in the way war zones are unintentionally dramatic.

Do not confuse dark circles for eyeliner. It is not Urban Decay. It’s placement. And yes, they will remind you. Repeatedly.

The stem students oscillate between 2 extremes:

• hyper-preppy (suspiciously put-together, like an off-duty Prada intern)
• or the same matching set worn for 14 consecutive days, now fused to their molecular structure (identity)

Often seen with a tote bag that contains a laptop, three chargers, a cereal bar, red bull and the crushing weight of exam season.

They will cancel plans with “I literally can’t,” then dutifully resurface at 1am, VK in-hand and ready for a night out.

Miranda would not understand them. She would, however, respect the efficiency.

The Jesmond Wellness Girl

She is what Miranda Priestly becomes after discovering Pilates.

Her Lululemon set is not an outfit. It is a lifestyle contract.

Her tote bag contains nothing, and yet somehow everything she needs for a spiritually aligned Tuesday.

She walks Jesmond Dene like it is a wellness campaign shoot. Headband firmly in place. Blair Waldorf, but make it 2026.

“Matcha over alcohol,” she says… then appears on Osborne Road at 11pm sipping a vodka lime soda with the confidence of someone who has reframed it as “balance”. Don’t be fooled, she knows her way around a tequila shot.

Miranda would call it: “brand inconsistency, but compelling.”

The Finance Bro 

He has one goal, and it’s already in his LinkedIn bio.

A quarter zip, white shirt and anxiety disguised as ambition.

He says things like “networking,” “trajectory,” and “London summer internship” in first year.

Drinks Guinness ironically but means it sincerely.

He is always vaguely en route to something more important than where he is currently standing, and his personality is 60% career plan, 40% pretending not to care and 100% ego.

Miranda would respect the pipeline.

That’s all. (She’s not saying “please.”)