Walk across Sproul Plaza on any given afternoon and you’ll notice UC Berkeley students have turned footwear into a declaration of identity. Your shoes tell the whole story.
The Dr. Martens activist
You might hear them before you see them. The distinctive bold, yellow threading proudly accompanies the huge, chunky soles. Dr. Martens-wearers are manning the tabling stations, megaphone at the ready and petition clipboard in hand. These boots have marched through protests and kicked down the doors of injustice — metaphorically, of course. Docs scream “I read theory for fun.” The scuffs and worn leather aren’t damage, they’re battle scars from the frontlines of social justice. Bonus points if they have political pins on the sides.
The Ugg half boot believer
There’s a specific type of UC Berkeley student who has transcended the pressure to look perpetually camera-ready: the Ugg-wearer. These are your laid-back scholars who rolled out of bed 10 minutes before their 10 a.m. lecture and pulled up 10 minutes after Berkeley Time. Paired with sweatpants or leggings and an oversized hoodie, Uggs represent the IDGAF energy. These students have reached a revelation: Comfort is king. They’re also equally likely to be pulling into class with headphones and sunglasses, even if it’s the dead of winter.
The Birkenstock environmentalist
If Birkenstocks could talk, they’d lecture you about composting. These cork-soled sandals — worn with socks when it’s cold — belong to the students who shop exclusively at the Berkeley Bowl, have a Nalgene at standby and go to the Cheese Board Collective regularly. These students probably have strong opinions about regenerative agriculture and might spontaneously tell you about their sustainable fashion thesis. The Birkenstock is less a shoe and more a lifelong commitment to being conscious and probably vegetarian.
The professional shoe recruit
Especially in the beginning of the semester, leather shoes invade the UC Berkeley campus, and career-conscious students are polishing them religiously. These students curate their LinkedIn profiles like resumes and somehow make Banana Republic look investment banker-ready. These shoes signal: “I’ve memorized the consulting frameworks and I will network.” Often spotted at Haas School of Business infosessions, new member fraternity events or speed-walking to coffee chats, their anxious energy is palpable.
The New Balance STEM major
Dad shoes aren’t just for dads anymore. New Balance 574s or 990s have become the unofficial uniform of students who spend more time in Evans Hall than anywhere else. These are practical people: the engineering majors, the computer science wizards and the applied math prodigies who value arithmetic more than aesthetics. Their shoes prioritize function, much like their approach to life. Why waste time on fashion when you could be debugging code or solving differential equations?
On campus, shoes aren’t just transportation. They are markers in a diverse ecosystem of student identity. Whether you’re stomping, shuffling, striding or strolling, your footwear choice broadcasts your values, priorities and campus persona to anyone who is paying attention.
The real UC Berkeley student? Most students own multiple pairs, shape-shifting between statements and classes as needed; why be just one archetype when you can be them all?