If you’re reading this, it’s likely that you’ve seen — and perhaps even own — one of the many shirts, jumpers or badges produced by our university’s Student Representative Council (SRC). Perhaps it’s one of Grassroots’ striking green tops you seamlessly stole from their stall during election campaigns on Eastern Avenue last year. Maybe it’s a Women’s or Queer Action Collective tee you took home after attending your first meeting at the beginning of your degree. Or perhaps it’s an old-school rag someone in your family passed down to you after their brief left-wing student politics stint.
Regardless of what it is or where it came from, you can be sure that your SRC merchandise features at least one of the institution’s signature design choices: a bright pop of colour, an unnecessarily large logo, and a pithy political statement. Without these elements, I fear student activists wouldn’t be able to recognise themselves in the mirror.
Such a stalwart of campus culture has undoubtedly been fashioned from a rich tapestry, one whose loose ends can be traced from the archives into our closets today. But Manning Road has not always been a runway; SRC designs have not always been so pronounced and provocative. While miniskirts and turtlenecks appear to be some of the most timeless vestiges of student-led protests, a walk through the University of Sydney’s history says otherwise.
Between the 1930s and 1960s: A comparative study
Some of the first editions of Honi Soit to regularly publish photographs of students — and subsequently initiate our foray into the realm of student fashion — emerged in the 1930s. In March 1931, the front page of news centred the “members of the second S.R. Council” draped in their faculty caps and gowns. Two months later, the paper included an advertisement for “the new University coat”, a tailored navy-blue blazer featuring the University arms alongside blue-and-gold braiding across its pockets. By the end of the decade, significant debaters and sportspeople like James Byas and Charles Gilton (both students who visited from Le Moyne College in Memphis) were still almost exclusively photographed wearing suits or formal attire.
These Anglo-centric, often explicitly colonial trends, were reinforced by the opening of a David Jones store in the Holme Building. Initially targeting the University’s majority of male students, the outlet sold a range of “made-to-measure suits” and “Townsend shoes” at discounted prices that were regularly advertised in Honi. It was not until the 1940s that the brand began to cater for women on campus, often straying away from skirts in favour of slacks and pants “tailored to flatter.” Although its physical closing date remains unclear, David Jones’ monopoly over retail promotions within student media was fully replaced by other off-campus brands by the 1970s.
Campus fashion for the broadly left-wing coalition of students featured in Honi of writers, editors and SRC representatives would remain modest and uniform until the beginning of the 1960s. In photographs circulated from 1948, law students who had been brutalised by police for marching to the Dutch consulate in protest against the occupation of Indonesia wore suits, ties and bowler hats. Three years later, the newly-elected SRC executive was pictured in collared shirts and blazers. By 1962, gimmicks pointing out “who’s who in the zoo” exclusively pictured Honi editors in their Sunday best — even if they were sprawled over a lounge or having a beer at the pub. Such formalities are almost unimaginable for today’s undergraduate students.
A note on “Miss University”
Just as “style” was defined by rigidly Westernised aesthetic standards, so too was it divided along overtly misogynistic lines. The introduction of the “Miss University” contest in 1949, and its subsequent associations with various meanings of “beauty” and “elegance” throughout Honi, raise numerous questions about the treatment of women’s fashion during this period. A front page from June of 1962 paired the headline “not just beautiful…” with a glowing photograph of Miss Arts’ Ruth de Berg. A cover from the following year captured Miss Engineering’s Cathy Buinover adorned with a chic updo and a shining sash across her chest. The state of play was no different in 1965, wherein Alexis Lavrova was crowned Miss University in a “success for science men.”
To be sure, these women were not necessarily associated with the SRC; in many ways, their prominence in each respective faculty is no different from attending the Law Ball or participating in Science Revue today. But we also cannot ignore that those who were named “Miss University” were always photographed in a glittering ball-gown. Sometimes, they wore long satin gloves or expensive diamond-laden jewellery. Others were even introduced through their relationship to male students, including “beautiful, blonde, 18-year-old” Keryl Egan in 1964.
More than a superficial insight into the trends and styles of on-campus formal attire, these articles reveal that a truly ‘activist’ fashion profile has not always been embedded in campus culture.
Protests, election editions and more protests
However, the mobilisation of protests around the Freedom Riders, anti-Vietnam War campaigns and opposition to faculty cuts during the 1960s would soon change this. As a forebear to the hand-painted banners you will find scattered throughout the SRC today, physical campaign symbols in the past centred on posters and signage. For activists like Charles Perkins, displays like the famous “Student Action for Aborigines” canvas became central to the movement; peace symbols and anti-Nixon slogans were similarly popular throughout various Vietnam War Moratorium rallies in 1970. Although these items could not be worn, they represent a move towards identifiable, reproducible and loud techniques to mark campaigns.
We’ve all seen the 1983 photograph of Anthony Albanese sitting atop the Quadrangle’s Clock Tower. Holding a walkie-talkie and chanting protest slogans, Albanese was part of a student-led movement advocating for the establishment of a Political Economy Department separate from the Faculty of Economics. All of the people in this image wore jeans and some variation of an Adidas sneaker; two layered a v-neck sweater with a white collared shirt, while the rest opted for a simple denim jacket. Similar patterns are visible in images from a 1977 boycott of social work lectures by pupils demanding increased funding, and a 1981 edition detailing the 10,000 students who marched through Sydney’s CBD in the Sparticist movement — it was sweater vest and bell-bottoms galore.
At first, these details appear to represent little more than popular trends amongst young people. After all, student protestors in the 1940s all wore the same outfits according to what was ‘in-style’ at the time. But amidst an increasingly individualistic consumer culture, it is significant that students were beginning to identify with informal and unspoken signifiers for their values, politics and campaigns.
Aside from the clothes students chose to wear throughout their studies, fashion also became one of the SRC’s most utilitarian assets as its body became more widespread and inclusive. Honi’s first stand-alone Election Edition was published in 1981, its pages filled with head-shots of students in casual clothes. In the same year, the editors devoted a two-page spread to a review of the Art Gallery of NSW’s Fabulous Fashion exhibition — a testament to the cultural capital and importance of this topic on contemporary students’ minds.
But as SRC elections for Presidential, Editorial and councillor positions became more competitive, their campaigners had to become more creative. It was not until 1986 that Honi hopefuls made their first attempts at cohesive campaign aesthetics by planning photoshoots and coordinating themed outfits. By 1990, these efforts were translated into some of the earliest documented campaign shirts: organised by Rachel Rillie, Anita Sheehan and Jeremy White, this paraphernalia featured a striking logo against a plain white background. Overtly political shirts as we now know them — aligned with on- and off-campus factions, parties and their respective causes — would only emerge in 1995.
The SRC’s bargain bin today
Flash-forward twenty years and you’d be hard-pressed to find an SRC or USU candidate without a personalised campaign shirt. A brief glance over the many colours and logos dotted along Eastern Avenue today will allow you to precisely ascertain each student politician’s faction: red is reserved for Left Action, a yellow lightning bolt for Switch, and blue for L/liberal. The shirts each faction’s campaigners wear also typically include their Presidential candidate’s name, a shift which (luckily) means we do not have to see Tony Abbott’s name anywhere in the Wentworth Building’s archive boxes. While the peculiarities of these designs may change each year — for example, Grassroots recently transitioned away using shoots of grass to solidarity fists within its branding — the basic associations remain the same between both of our student unions.
However, the visual landscape of materials, hues and patterns differs for teams hoping to win an Honi term. Candidates are not bound by any explicit political associations or informal rules; they are only limited by their graphic design capabilities. This has led to a variety of unique and innovative designs over the past decade, the most notable of which include Scoop for Honi’s ice cream-themed paraphernalia in 2015 and Fit for Honi’s bright pink sporting gear in 2019.
In similar ways to the cashmere knits and tweed pants of the 1960s, these outfits have made their way into the broader fashion vernacular beyond protests and campaigns for many students. But no shirts have become more popular in daily life than those produced by the SRC’s many collectives. The most notable designs have emerged in recent years, including the 2019 Women’s Collective shirts featuring the phrase “a woman’s place is in the revolution”, and the Autonomous Collective Against Racism’s (ACAR) “Give Back Gadigal” shirts developed in 2022. While it remains unknown when this kind of merchandise emerged, it is thought to have coincided with the SRC’s production of unique union shirts throughout the 2010s. In light of recent campus events like the Gaza Solidarity Encampment, student organisations such as Students For Palestine have also distributed protests shirts centred on ending the genocide.
Fashion trends come, slogans go, but the SRC’s unique political history is forever. Whether it be through a suit jacket or a hand-cut tee, University of Sydney students have always known how to show up to a protest. Eastern Avenue — and Science Road, and the Redfern Run — will always be our runway.
