“Dorm-room décor” used to mean some combination of those generic posters they used to sell during freshman-orientation “poster sales” — Al Pacino as Scarface, Bob Marley’s head shrouded in weed smoke, maybe Audrey Hepburn looking gamine with her cigarette holder — and overflowing laundry hampers, and never-dry shower caddies to carry to and from the shared bathrooms. And while I’m sure versions of this can still be found in dorms across the land, today the confluence of Amazon, helicopter-parenting, and Instagram-oriented decorating has ushered in a new era of dorm life: the dorm room custom-decorated (often with a unifying color scheme) by mom.
Recently, I — like People and the New York Times — have been sucked into a corner of Facebook dedicated to moms who decorate their kids’ college dorm rooms. Dorm Room Mamas, at 240,000 members strong, is just one of many parent-run groups dedicated to dorm décor. What makes Dorm Room Mamas so interesting to me isn’t the creative storage solutions, the DIY upholstered headboards, or the custom neon signs (names like “Peyton” or “Marleigh,” above each roomie’s bed, or college cheers — “Hotty toddy” at Ole Miss, “Hook ‘em Horns” at U of T). What has me scrolling (and scrolling) is the group’s underlying purpose as a place where helicopter parents support each other as they endure the wrenching process of letting their kids go free.
Not all members of these groups are helicopter parents, of course. Many are simply excited for the opportunity to transform a room from a cinderblock cell into something adorably color-coordinated. One member of Dorm Room Mamas told me that decorating her daughter’s dorm was a symbolic act, “my last thing to do for her before her new journey.” There are the moms who contact the roommate’s mom months before move-in weekend to agree on a room theme. The moms who apply floral wallpaper to foam insulation boards, which they haul into the dorms and install over the dingy ecru. The moms who trade advice on stocking healthy snack stations and who are already planning what Halloween décor they will send so their kids can observe spooky season just like they’re accustomed to doing at home.
The packing list of dorm-room “must-haves” has inflated to dizzying lengths — the group maintains a 16-page Google Doc with a suggested shopping list that includes a safe, an air purifier, and special shelving designed to fit around a mini-fridge and create a “dorm kitchen.” Desks are decked out with vanities (skin care having superseded studying in terms of what one does there), and art is bought in matching framed sets (color-coded to match the room’s theme, of course). These dorm rooms represent a commitment toward consumption and newness that was forged in the fires of influencer culture, which these college kids are being trained to replicate as they reach independence. It’s not just room décor, it’s a culture of domesticity that has Amazon Prime as its organizing principle.
But for many of these Dorm Room Mamas, decorating is really a way of extending a loving tentacle of control into the lives of their kids. Décor exerts influence about how to behave — sometimes literally, through the ubiquitous art and throw pillows bearing phrases like CALL YOUR MOM or CHIN UP or YOU GOT THIS. (One pillow I spotted in a photo of a boy’s room posted to Facebook said, “Give it to God and go to sleep.”) Tidy and totalizing décor can work subliminally, too — a reminder that a college kid is expected to behave at college the way they were taught to behave at home. When your mom plans and decorates your room, she’s everywhere you look, even when she’s three states away.
They don’t stop with décor. Dorm Room Mamas advise each other on care packages and must-haves to send throughout the semester. These thoughtful touches seem to know no limit. One mom bought a set of cute envelopes printed with messages like, “Open me when you’ve had a tough day,” and she filled each one with a little treat. In the comments, others wanted to know where she’d come across such a fun and original idea.
During the first weeks of the new school year, after all the before-and-after pics have been shared, Dorm Room Mamas shifts from being a décor-inspiration group to a highly engaged support group. Many parents ask for advice about what to do with a son or daughter who is struggling to settle into school. (A subset of members take on the role of stern-but-loving counselors on tough love: Dorm Room Mamas are forever advising each other to let kids figure things out for themselves.) Others wonder what to do when their child isn’t getting along with their roommate. Some grieve the absence of their children at home — when one mother said she’d been crying all day, veteran Mamas reminded her to drink her electrolytes. A family dog died the day after a daughter had left for school, and her mother asked the group how she should share the news. A consensus emerged in the comments that the mother should fly back to college and tell her daughter in person.
For the Mamas feeling acute separation anxiety, there’s the flurry of posts about surveillance technology, mostly the Life 360 app, a family location-tracking app. Mamas recount being up till 2 a.m. watching their child’s avatar linger for an alarmingly long period on the “wrong side of town.” Having been accustomed to being able to track their children down in person during high school, Life 360 turns into a maddening exercise in anxious futility for faraway parents still used to using it. Alexa, sometimes used as a remote room monitor for the elderly, makes appearances in debates about whether using it for that purpose in your child’s dorm room is an invasion of privacy. (Opinions on this vary quite a bit among the Mamas.)
Gaining independence is never a pretty sight. The unwashed laundry, the erratic eating and sleeping, the social uncertainty — I don’t wish to glorify it, but it is how we learn. When these parents create expectations for the aesthetics of freshman year, it feels like they might be missing the point. But when you can use Amazon as a love language, it’s almost too easy to keep your child stocked up on toilet paper and healthy snacks. It’s easy to see how hard it would be to resist taking part in this kind of intensive parenting, especially if your child’s roommate had a parent who did.
Through these advice threads, Dorm Room Mamas becomes a tender, rueful space for processing the after-effects of having been a hyper-involved parent. Amid the anxiety there is significant self-awareness, and lots of jokes about finally getting a call from a kid who has adapted to independence a little more eagerly than their mother was ready for. It’s a rare place on the internet-of-mothers where helicopter-parenting is admitted to and discussed without excessive moralizing. After all, these are late-career moms who decided on their parenting philosophies long ago. It’s too late to change now — all they can hope is that their kids are safe, and are willing to text back.
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