I am not a fashion maven. My closet is not stuffed with the latest Marc Jacobs couture or Christian Louboutin heels. Rather, my uniform is typical of an American college student: a pair of old jeans and a solid-color T-shirt paired with some variation of black shoes. My footwear remains unwaveringly black, whether I’m donning boots, heels, sneakers or flats. My favorite purse is a hobo (black, of course) that I purchased for $24 at Old Navy in SoHo two summers ago. This is a bag that has somehow survived countless long nights out and all kinds of Chicago, New York and now London.

But since coming to London a little more than a month ago to study, I realized I had to learn a thing or two about fashion. And quickly.

Photo by resiance on flickr.com, licensed under Creative Commons.

A page out of my book of knowledge for you winter/spring expats: When you’re packing, and it comes down to deciding between that extra pair of jeans or that cute dress you bought, ditch the jeans. Pack the dress.

Students here — especially where I go to school, the very artsy Goldsmiths — dress to kill whether they are going to a nightclub or down New Cross Road for class. The most common uniform for ladies is a pair of opaque tights — black is the most popular, but a range of hues can be spotted around campus — paired with a funky skirt and chic flats of various colors, materials and designs.

I wasn’t prepared for all this. Coming this summer from a work environment that allowed jeans and tees with nice sandals, I was caught off-guard once I landed in London. It was refreshing that the women didn’t cave to the latest fall trends, some of which border on the ridiculous; their styles were classically stylish yet modern. Granted, university students are more likely to push the envelope than are the style mavens who clack their heels along the West End high streets. But it was still disorienting for my American eyes.

I had two options: I could stomp myfeet and remain my old American self; or, I could try to adapt to the British way of dress. And, like learning how to enjoy tea (a concept foreign to this coffee addict), it took a week or two for me to get up the nerve to try it.

Standing at a vendor at Spitalfields Market in East London selling brightly-colored silk dresses, I found myself debating whether or not to buy, for 15 pounds (about $30), a floral purple, white and black silk dress with a plunging v-neck and billowy, elbow-length sleeves. I had already rejected several of my flatmates’ recommendations at other markets. I already had the tights — probably one of my smartest purchases and the best $12.50 I’ve spent in ages. Now, all I needed was the dress to complete my British look.

I wasn’t yet sure where I would wear it — or if I even would. I don’t normally wear prints. And because there were no dressing rooms, I just had to take a chance and hope that I would be happy with my purchase. So I dug into my purse and fished out 15 quid for the vendor. She smiled and put my new purchase — the first item of clothing I bought in London — into a nondescript white plastic bag. I went home feeling satisfied but unsure. I liked it on the rack. But would I like it on me?

I had my answer two weeks later. I was setting off for a night out with an American friend of mine. Over my black Gap tights, paired with my black leather Nine West stiletto boots, I was wearing the silk floral dress I had purchased two Sundays before.

Medill junior Christina Amoroso is currently studying abroad in London. Read about her day-to-day experiences in in her New York Post blog.