We’re in an era where the allure of virtual celebrity trumps traditional star power, Instagram always eats first, and the subway doubles as a backdrop for a viral dance video. Every scroll can open doors to unseen worlds.
In fact, it’s normal to open up your TikTok For You Page and see chefs waking up at a sparrow’s fart to prepare obscene amounts of soft scrambled eggs; strawberry cheesecake pancakes topped with cream cheese, Graham cracker crumbs, and fresh strawberries; and freshly baked salmon bagels. Only, this smorgasbord of breakfast delights isn’t an episode of Hell’s Kitchen, and Gordon Ramsay isn’t emerging from the walk-in freezer to call the chefs “idiot sandwiches” — this is just the Yale University cafeteria.
Providing an enticing peek into an exclusive enclave, it’s no wonder that the internet has been lapping up this content for several months now. But it goes deeper than just being watchable clips; it’s representative of our profound preoccupation with social status, aesthetics and privilege.
Most of us could not even fathom what it’s like to be in the halls of an Ivy League university or imagine what lies beyond the front doors of the same institutions that housed the Barack Obamas and Warren Buffetts of society, so witnessing something as mundane as an all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet provides a voyeuristic window into the world of these elite establishments.
The allure is not simply about the food; it’s about the exclusivity it represents, where every cafeteria meal becomes a tangible symbol of privilege. If those soft, creamy scrambled eggs are promising career opportunities, then the strawberry cheesecake pancakes must taste like increased social status. And the salmon bagels? Well, they’re tuition fees of upwards of $240,000. It’s no wonder we’re watching — we all want a spoonful of it.
TikToks of meticulously arranged meals and stylish surroundings therefore serve as a satisfying visual aid for the core aesthetic-obsessed. Even the recommended content for Yale cafeteria Tok is “Yale Aesthetic” which, according to TikTok, is chunky cable knit sweaters emblazoned with a ‘Y’, conventionally attractive caucasians drinking coffee on the grass, and moody, dimly lit libraries.
Perhaps, then, the fixation with consuming what Ivy League cafeterias are serving up lies in their ability to construct a coherent visual identity for those who feel like a real-life Rory Gilmore. In fact, it’s never been easier to romanticise what your life could be like if you dressed in knits and spent your days mooching around campus reading obscure literature. Seeing viral clips of students being treated to an aesthetically-pleasing spread therefore encapsulates this obsession with identity in a tangible, visual form. Yalecore, if you will.
Beyond the Yalecore aesthetic, TikTok’s idyllic portrayal of university life in general is definitely worth mentioning, especially because it ends up constructing a narrative that is both inspiring and alienating for those of us who can only dream of graduating from Yale. In a way, videos of pancake-laden breakfast tables on TikTok are representative of the idealised version of the college or university experience that we’ve seen in movies like House Bunny or American Pie, where the main characters seem to breeze through their coming-of-age experiences without having to so much as wonder how the hell they’re going to pay off their exorbitant student debts.
There’s something strange about seeing the university experience being portrayed to be this perfect. For many, it will be anything but glamorous, especially when you can count on both hands how many times you’ve succumbed to Red Bull-induced diarrhoea after pulling an all-nighter to finish a project.
Seeing students appear so carefree online evokes a sort of digital schadenfreude. On one hand, it’s fascinating to peek through the window into a world of privilege that feels as far out of reach as Rihanna’s next album (seriously, where is it?). On the other hand, it also brings up feelings of envy or resentment, underscoring the complex and often paradoxical emotions provoked when we see others thriving online. We’re either happy for them, or we want them to fail so hard that their lives are ruined — there’s almost no in between.
Yale students like TikToker Emme Zhou (who is the face behind some of the most popular Yale cafeteria videos) have racked up millions of views and likes for simply showcasing what’s on offer nourishment-wise. Other students from different Ivy League institutions have also started creating their own “what I eat in a day” videos, but it’s all starting to feel like just another way for people to showcase their status for social currency.
Social media has now become a powerful tool for advertising your standing in society, almost like how people in early 1700s Britain would display pineapples from Barbados as dinnertime ornaments until they rotted, just so they could flaunt their privilege to others (at the time, they were considered incredibly exotic and were worth $6,000 in today’s currency, but that’s a history lesson for another day).
If you think about it, students posting “what I eat in a day” videos are the modern-day version of the once-exotic Barbadian pineapple. On the surface they’re just harmless clips of an everyday student’s life and dietary choices, but underneath, they’re really a carefully curated image of how they want their existence to be perceived by others. Yes, they may be cramming before an exam or swiftly chowing down on lunch while scrambling to finish their assignment, but they’re still doing it all while sitting in the polished halls of an Ivy League cafeteria — which is a much better backdrop than yours, poor little pleb.
For the most part, these videos are obviously just harmless fun, but you can’t help but wonder whether the students who create them are seeking the external validation that undoubtedly comes with advertising that they’re at an Ivy League institution. Perhaps you can’t blame them for that — especially when half the comments under their videos will be other users expressing how lucky they are to be studying there.
In a social media landscape immersed in a world of digital personas and instant gratification, it makes sense that Ivy League cafeteria Tok is as wildly popular as it is – especially when taking into account our profound preoccupation with social status and privilege, obsession with core aesthetics, and desire to showcase status for social currency. Only in 2023 can something as simple as a sumptuous breakfast buffet be a reflection of the evolving values and desires within our society and internet culture. But for a species whose ancestors proudly showed off a slowly decaying pineapple at dinner parties, are we really surprised?