This is who you’re going to turn into when you move to London

Everyone has a stereotype at uni. Whether that's being the chest-thumping rugby boy, blonde hockey girl from Guildford or the insufferable arty one, you graduate with not only a degree, but an identity. An identity that will bring you to London, dictating where you will end up working, where you will end up living and where you'll be going out on a Friday night. Like a rite of passage, you will no doubt congregate to your tribe in Clapham, Hackney or Peckham, to seek out the other rugby boys and environmentalists – people just like you.

About to graduate? This is who you're going to turn into when you inevitably move to London.

Rugby boy

The Rugby boy’s single highlight at uni was Wednesday nights. He felt very comfortable when girls threw themselves at him and everyone knew who he was. Inevitably, he moved to Clapham to relive the same experience in Infernos. Only this time round, he might dabble in coke and will definitely call it “gear.” He lives for casual Fridays and loves sporting his classic Ray Bans all year round.

Where they work: Banking, insurance.

Where they live and go out: Clapham, Putney, Balham, Battersea. They’ll be in The Ship, Infernos or you’ll spot them in The Clapham North pub.

What they’ll cry about first: When they realise no one gives a fuck about how much of a BNOC they were at uni.

Depop thot

She's spent her last three years at Newcastle, Coventry or UWE going to house nights and chewing her jaw off. Now she's moved to London, nothing's really changed except she's snorting coke rather than bombing MD. The Depop thot wears tiny sunglasses on nights out and cycling shorts, with lots of glitter. Studied art, or something creative. Has several pairs of chunky trainers, only wears athleisure and is addicted to Depop. Maintains the dishevelled but super fit vibe, and could pass for a model on Instagram. Has a lowkey coke problem, spends her weekends in Corsica Studios and Frank’s, and documents her life on Instagram via HUJI. Sounds like she’s smoked all her life, puts on a posh accent to try and fit in.

Where they work: Creative agency, influencer and social media marketing.

Where they live and go out: Camberwell, New Cross and Peckham.

What they’ll cry about first: How bad their comedown is on the 177 bus.

Standard poshos

These earnest little worker bees did a degree in a subject they sincerely enjoyed at school, only to realise in third year that there was no hope of a career in Biochemistry beyond literally lecturing in it.

Bidding a sad goodbye to their pleasant mid-tier uni, they signed their souls away to a law conversion. Now they’re making £40k plus at a firm in “the city.” They work late, have wavy, luscious hair, and wear expensive suits all day. They’ll marry someone from the firm after shagging them a whole one time, since they don’t have the time to find another partner. They’re either massively into K or have never touched drugs in their life – there is no in between. The love the sesh.

Where they work: Mostly lawyers, some bankers.

Where they live and go out: Live in Fulham, Ladbroke Grove, Notting Hill. Goes out in Brixton to Phonox.

What they’ll cry about first: Lack of sleep.

The mum

The mum has a long-term boyfriend all the way through uni, so she needs to find a house big enough for them both when they move to London. They’ll settle in Wimbledon, Acton or Richmond. Or they may have already bought a house in Guildford. She doesn’t mind the tedious commute because it means she can listen to Fearne Cotton’s latest podcast or read Sophie Kinsella on the train to Waterloo. The mum will have a stable job, so it’s one less thing to worry about. Her weekends are spent exploring different parts of London with her man. You’ll find her in Kew Gardens, a local Carluccio’s or a Slug and Lettuce when they do their 2-for-1 prosecco offer.

Where they work: Pharmacist, teacher or a secretary.

Where they live and go out: West, west London. They don’t go out.

What they’ll cry about first: Realising she has no friends left after abandoning all of them for her boyfriend.

Arty soft boys

Hailing from a creative uni, on the weekend you’ll find the arty soft boys drinking an obscure can of pale ale on the roof of Netil House, boring everyone about his new record player or the art exhibition he went to. If he’s not there, they can be found milling about a pretentious food market, piling fruit, veg and expensive honey into his Ace & Tate tote bag. His signature look is baggy Dickies trousers, white socks showing and a pair of low rise Docs. He wears a tiny hat that doesn’t cover his ears. He has a pug, of course, or some other kind of bulldog that struggles to breathe. Hobbies include baking bread and making fresh pasta.

Where they work: Media, production, graphics.

Where they live and go out: Hackney, he refuses to leave east London.

What they’ll cry about first: When his favourite organic £3.50-for-a-cup coffee shop runs out of almond milk.

Northern girl

The Northern girl moves straight to Camden as she’s heard it’s (still) cool. She lives by Time Out magazine, and will go wherever they say is good, like Ballie Ballerson, Bounce ping pong, Jazz Cafe or Blues Kitchen. Street food hasn’t lost its novelty, and Box Park in Shoreditch is the coolest place she’s ever been. The Northern girl falls in love with London hard: Pret and Leon are out of this world according to her, and there’s even a tube map poster in her room. She’s the type of girl to have live, laugh, love in her bio, do an Instagram Story every time it’s a friend’s birthday and say things like “wet Wednesdays” and “thirsty Thursdays”, but that’s because she works in recruitment.

Where they work: Recruitment.

Where they live and go out: Camden, goes out in Camden, the rest of London is a mystery, and frankly too big.

What they’ll cry about first: The price of a pint.

Sad boy

The sad boy spent his uni life at York or some other equally dull university playing FIFA on Saturday nights, eating oven cook pizzas and drinking out of a sports direct mug. And to be honest, when he gets to London the sad boy doesn’t adapt. He continues to live in a shared house of six people (which has no living room). Any hint of interior design stops at white IKEA furniture and half-living-half-dying house plants in terracotta pots. His diet still consists of pesto pasta, but will treat himself to a Deliveroo when he gets £7.50 free credit.

Where they work: Working in a pub.

Where they live and go out: Leyton or Stratford. He only goes out to pubs, and is still obsessed with Wetherspoons.

What they’ll cry about first: Having to spend £10 on a double gin and tonic in a “distinctly average bar”, according to him.

Accountancy grad

Uni wasn’t about getting pissed and socialising for the accountancy grads. It was about getting a first class degree and landing a job in a soulless bank. “Money makes the world go round” and “money is happiness” are drilled into them from a young age. Any aspirations of being anything other than in finance were crushed age five. In London, the Accountancy grad doesn’t socialise with anyone other than their flatmate, who is also revising for their exams. Their purpose is to get rich, and that’s it.

Where they work: Literally anything to do with money.

Where they live and go out: They don’t go out, they have revision to do obviously. Accountancy grads live somewhere barren like Kensington, Marylebone, Canary Wharf (10 minutes from the office). Or, they live with their parents in their north London mansion.

What they’ll cry about first: Failing one of their accountancy exams.

Guildford girl

She was the hockey captain at Exeter Uni, has always been immensely popular and constantly has a fling on the go. The Guildford girl appears in the top 10 most swiped girls on Bumble, has blonde hair and is obsessed with 1Rebel spin and Frame barre classes. On her commute from south London to Soho she listens to The High Low because Dolly Alderton is her religion (“omg you have to read Everything I Know About Love it’s literally so ME”). She cant “function” without her midday Diet Coke, which she drinks when popping out to spend £8 on lunch every day. Tuna poke is her fave. Guildford girl’s kitchen has been used under 10 times, as she’s always eating lunch or dinner her with girlfriends. They usually go to popular Instagram locations, like The Ivy Brasserie, Megan’s or Bluebird.

Where they work: Digital marketing, PR, comms.

Where they live and go out: Lives in Brixton. Goes out to The Ship in Clapham every Sunday and The Prince of Wales in Brixton. In the day, her clique can be found on any London rooftop (Pergola Paddington is their fave), drinking Aperol Spritz. She inevitably buys a packet of Marlboro Touch after one drink.

What they’ll cry about first: When she runs out of CBD oil and can’t hack the tube without it.

Politics

Somehow years spent ranting on Twitter about how great Theresa May (RIP) was and ended up with his dream job as the bitch of some low-ranking politician. Spends his time off exclusively in The Red Lion or Tattershall Castle bigging up his insider knowledge of the ruling class, while glossing over the fact that his office space is literally a shoebox under a desk. Plays a bit of sport on the weekend but not enough to ward off all the calories those craft ales have in them. Lives in Bermondsey to be close to the breweries, but also to be close to the Jubilee line. His parents live in Chiswick or Richmond. Has admittedly bad fashion sense, but doesn’t care: v-neck jumpers, ill-fitting suits and boat shoes.

Where they work: “They work in Parliament” but no one knows what they do.

Where they live and go out: Bermondsey, pints in Westminster.

What they’ll cry about first: When Theresa resigned (RIP in PEACE).

Environmentalist

The Environmentalist discovered themselves on their gap year after sixth form. University just solidified their dangerous coke habit and their hate for the establishment. Fast forward a few years, they’re in London and still wearing their age old Birks or Doc Martens. Only now they complain about the city’s air quality, the tube or the litter on the streets. They’ll try to convince you they knew about Extinction Rebellion before it became “cool.” Love a good tote bag and a packet of Quorn sausages dipped in red pepper houmous. Also love expensive holidays abroad.

Where they work: Working at a charity and most likely not getting paid.

Where they live and go out: In guardianship shared housing, before getting evicted and moving to Bristol.

What they’ll cry about first: Realising their concerted efforts in eliminating reusable plastics will achieve nothing in the grand scheme of things and we’re way past the point of no return.

Ralphie roadboy

The Ralphie roadboy graduated from Manchester with a 2:1 in Economics. On moving to London, he decided he wanted to live in a place where there’s a proper high street with chicken shops, veg stands and walk-in barbers, somewhere that hasn’t been infiltrated by Pizza Express of Jojo Maman Bébé. But equally, he requires the back streets to be gentrified, with low lighting cocktail bars, Voodoo Rays and vegan restaurants. He finds himself in East Dulwich (he tells everyone he lives in Peckham), where he hangs out in Canavans and Bussey Building. He JUULs all the time, despite never being a smoker. When he’s done with south London he makes the journey north to Belsize Park to hang out with mummy and daddy.

Where they work: Media or FinTech.

Where they live and go out: Peckham (East Dulwich).

What they’ll cry about first: His hour long journey back from a night out in Dalston on the Overground.

The scumbro

Went to Bristol or Leeds, wears expensive streetwear and tie-dye tops. Gives off the appearance of being a bit grubby in a desperate attempt to hide their middle-class, even though they’re wearing £200 trainers that they bought on a midnight drop. Smokes a lot of weed and enjoys arguing about the establishment. Has a fluffy Kangol bucket hat. Fucking loves Boomtown.

Where they work: Events, promotions, DJing.

Where they live and go out: Walthamstow, Hackney Wick.

What they’ll cry about first: When someone in a bar accidentally gets fag ash on their expensive hoodie.

Wantrepenuer

Throughout his time at a London uni (King’s or UCL, but not LSE), he tried desperately to convince you he was a creative individual – destined to conquer the business world on his own terms. They set up dozens of failed businesses with their friends at uni, and their sense of purpose and drive was popular with the ladies.

Then third year happened, and the threat of council tax reared its ugly head. The wantrepreneur promptly bailed on his ambitions of self-made success to wrap a desperate hand around the bottom rung of the corporate ladder. Now he’s in the sort of job you don’t need a degree to get – making shed loads more than you’ll ever earn in your entire life on commission alone. When they’re not in their M&S suit, supping £8 pints and hoovering “packet” with the other sales #boys he’s viciously updating his LinkedIn. Wears Airpods. Vapes.

Where they work: Recruitment or sales.

Where they live and go out: Elephant & Castle, goes out in Copenhagen (expenses paid by the CEO obvs).

What they’ll cry about first: When they’re 30 and contemplating the inevitable career move into teaching.

Normcore boy

He went to your average “good” uni: Nottingham, Birmingham of Cardiff, where he had a stable girlfriend and was social sec of the ski society. Like when picking his uni, Normcore boy doesn’t really care for vibe or area, he just wants cheap rent and a bed to sleep in at night. So he ends up in random parts of London, like Tooting, Elephant & Castle or Nine Elms. None of the furniture matches (not that he cares) – it’s literally like being back at uni. If he’s not at the pub (the Knights Templar is his favourite), he’s at a drum and bass night at Fabric or Ministry of Sound. The only reason he goes to either is because they’re the only London clubs he’s heard of. Cycles everywhere, still shops in Topman.

Where they work: Teacher, but always considering going travelling again to Bali or Sri Lanka.

Where they live and go out: Tooting, Elephant & Castle or Nine Elms, shit expensive London clubs.

What they’ll cry about first: When they’re long term girlfriend inevitably breaks up with them because they still act like a student.