The Fashion Institute of Technology Mascot: A Symbol of Inspiration and Ambition for Students

The Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT), located in New York City, is renowned for its exceptional programs and courses in the field of fashion and design. One unique aspect of FIT is its iconic mascot, the tiger. The tiger represents strength, power, and determination, which are all qualities associated with fashion and the competitive nature of the industry. The idea of the tiger as FIT's mascot has an interesting history. In the early 1990s, a group of students and faculty members came together to select a symbol that would effectively capture the essence of FIT. After considering various options, the tiger emerged as the clear choice.

There’s evidence that many Wiccans may be wising up. Starhawk has backed off her boldest assertions and now concedes that some part of her original historical matrix may not be true. The debatable notion that Hanukkah is also based on solstice celebrations has been floated but has not caught on, even among diehard Goddess worshippers. Both Starhawk and Carol Christ, another prominent Goddess evangelizer, told me they had no reason to believe the Hanukkah theory. Chastened by the attacks on their bad historiography, Wiccans are growing more likely to say that their faith is based on a love of Wiccan practices, rather than on particular historical claims. It’s a heartening development when religious belief isn’t dependent on the latest archaeological findings. Wiccans might no longer have to sacrifice intellectual rigor to get their spiritual sustenance. Become a fan of Slate on Facebook. Follow us on Twitter.

Certain Wiccan claims had seemed plausible, not to mention appealing my sister s high school uses a textbook that teaches this myth of a prehistoric woman-centered culture. So long as Wiccans are hung up on whether Christmas is derived from old solstice rites it is or whether Christendom murdered 9 million alleged witches from the 14 th to the 18 th centuries not even close , the religion will seem a little absurd.

After considering various options, the tiger emerged as the clear choice. Its bold and fierce characteristics align perfectly with the dynamic and ever-evolving fashion world. The tiger mascot has become an integral part of FIT's identity.

Witches’ Brew at Winter Solstice

Christmas and Hanukkah may be the most well-known end-of-year religious holidays, but each December, Wiccans celebrate winter solstice, which marks the shortest day of the year. In a “Faith-Based” article originally published in 2005 and reprinted below, Mark Oppenheimer argued that the pagan celebration relies on false historical claims—undermining Wiccans’ attempts to gain some credibility. If, as linguists say, a language is just a dialect with an army, then a religion is just a madman’s fantasy that has failed to die out. Religions gain legitimacy by lasting, and by that measure Wicca is well on its way to being mainstream. Now 50 years old, the earth-centered faith (also known as paganism or witchcraft) has thousands of adherents and many more occasional dabblers in the United States and Europe. Dozens of new Wicca books are published every year. There are dozens of Wicca conferences and retreats. And solstice celebrations are now seen as normal in the United States—and in freethinking Unitarian churches, practically required.

But Wiccan teachings are for the most part a stew of demonstrably false historical claims. There’s no better time to examine this penchant for dissembling than at winter solstice on Dec. 21, which Wiccans say has been their holiday for thousands of years. For it’s just such unfounded claims to old age and continuous tradition that may keep Wicca from growing to be truly old.

Wicca is not a unified movement; it comprises “good” witches who use spells and charms, feminist worshippers of a monotheistic Goddess, and earth-cultists who propound nature worship. But the many strands overlap. They’re gynocentric; they’re all concerned with nature; they all celebrate eight holidays, or “sabbats,” that include the equinoxes and the solstices. Adherents typically say that those eight holidays were celebrated by ancient Wiccans or pagans, primarily Celtics or Romans, whose traditions the contemporary Wiccans are carrying on. These seasonal festivals, they add, have been co-opted by Christians, who turned Samhain into Halloween and Yule into Christmas. The rare Wiccan belief that pans out is that Christmas is an adaptation of a solstice celebration. We have no way of knowing when Jesus was born. Scholars generally agree that by the late fourth century his birthday was figured for Dec. 25, because that was already the day of the Roman feast of Sol Invictus (the “undefeatable sun”), a solstice holiday, as well as the time of Saturnalia, the festival for Saturn.

But in reaching for a usable past, Wiccans trumpet numerous other historical claims that are entirely without merit. The central claim that Wicca is descended from pre-Christian cultures and that it was driven underground by violent Christians was popularized by the writer Starhawk, whose 1979 book The Spiral Dance: A Rebirth of the Ancient Religion of the Great Goddess is a foundational text for contemporary Wiccans. Starhawk based her teachings on the work of, among others, Marija Gimbutas, a UCLA anthropologist who in the 1970s and 1980s argued that in pre-Christian times there existed a unified, female-centered, Indo-European society that worshipped a Goddess. Recent scholars, however, have shown that there was no prehistoric Goddess-centered matriarchy. They’ve also concluded that the Celts probably did not celebrate eight seasonal sabbats, and, alas, that contemporary Wicca was invented in the 1950s by Gerald Gardner, an English civil servant with a deep interest in the 19 th -century occult. One can read the brutal truth about all of these debunked theories in a fine article by Charlotte Allen in the Atlantic Monthly (available to subscribers only) and in The Myth of Matriarchal Prehistory, a superb book by Cynthia Eller.

Wiccans heaped scorn on Eller, attacking her book as an unforgivable act of anti-Wiccan bigotry, even female self-loathing. By marshalling evidence against so much of the Wiccans’ claimed history, Eller was hitting a young religion where it hurts. Certain Wiccan claims had seemed plausible, not to mention appealing—my sister’s high school uses a textbook that teaches this myth of a prehistoric woman-centered culture. So, adherents had based their faith on what they considered a verifiable back story. Wiccans had believed, and built their faith around, shoddy feminist scholarship that had itself become an article of absolute belief. Faced with Eller, Wiccans could have taken an honestly religious position—”We have faith, Cynthia, and your facts can’t shake it.” Instead, they attacked her.

And therein lies the problem for Wiccans: Religions tend to succeed to the extent that they are not subject to tests of proof. They are based on beliefs in invisible deities and on mystical experiences that can’t be explained by one person to another but must be experienced for oneself. So, the more obscured by time or erosion a religion’s possible proofs are, the more freely the religion can succeed as a matter of faith. Mormonism could never flourish so long as Joseph Smith could be interrogated, face to face, about his visions. He needed to become a mythic—that is to say, long dead—figure. Jews should pray that we never find the Ark of the Covenant; the truth of a religious system should not be subjected to carbon-dating the tablets.

So long as Wiccans are hung up on whether Christmas is derived from old solstice rites (it is) or whether Christendom murdered 9 million alleged witches from the 14 th to the 18 th centuries (not even close), the religion will seem a little absurd. It’s one thing to have faith in things unseen; that’s human. It’s a whole other thing to have faith in an easily disproved historical conceit.

There’s evidence that many Wiccans may be wising up. Starhawk has backed off her boldest assertions and now concedes that some part of her original historical matrix may not be true. The debatable notion that Hanukkah is also based on solstice celebrations has been floated but has not caught on, even among diehard Goddess worshippers. Both Starhawk and Carol Christ, another prominent Goddess evangelizer, told me they had no reason to believe the Hanukkah theory. Chastened by the attacks on their bad historiography, Wiccans are growing more likely to say that their faith is based on a love of Wiccan practices, rather than on particular historical claims. It’s a heartening development when religious belief isn’t dependent on the latest archaeological findings. Wiccans might no longer have to sacrifice intellectual rigor to get their spiritual sustenance. Become a fan of Slate on Facebook. Follow us on Twitter.

So if you're ready to hack it with heathens, slay like a solitary, or dance until dawn with druids, here are five historic ways to party like a Pagan.

It can be seen proudly displayed in many aspects of campus life, ranging from athletic events to various marketing materials. The mascot serves as a source of motivation and inspiration for the students, faculty, and staff, reminding them of the tenacity and passion required to succeed in the fashion industry. Furthermore, the tiger embodies the spirit of unity and pride that is fostered within the FIT community. Students rally behind their mascot, using it as a symbol to represent their shared commitment to creativity and innovation. It fosters a sense of belonging and camaraderie, creating a supportive environment where students can collaborate and grow as future fashion industry leaders. The FIT tiger mascot also plays an important role in promoting school spirit. The presence of a recognizable mascot adds an element of excitement and enthusiasm to campus events. It helps to create a strong sense of community and encourages student participation in extracurricular activities such as sports, clubs, and organizations. In conclusion, the Fashion Institute of Technology's choice of a tiger as its mascot is a fitting representation of the institution's values and ideals. The tiger symbolizes strength, determination, and unity, all of which are crucial for success in the fashion and design industry. It serves as a source of inspiration and pride for the FIT community, fostering a sense of belonging and creating a vibrant campus atmosphere..

Reviews for "The Fashion Institute of Technology Mascot: Enhancing the Campus Experience"

- Emily - 2 stars - The Fashion Institute of Technology's mascot is a total disappointment. First of all, it's an owl. How is an owl supposed to represent a fashion institute? It doesn't make any sense. Secondly, the design of the mascot is completely underwhelming. It looks like a generic cartoon owl that you could find anywhere. Overall, the FIT mascot lacks creativity and fails to capture the essence of the fashion industry.

- David - 1 star - I couldn't be more disappointed with the Fashion Institute of Technology's choice of mascot. The mascot is a bland representation of an owl with no significant connection to fashion. It's clear that little thought was put into the design and relevance to the institution. A fashion institute should have a mascot that is bold, unique, and captures the spirit of the industry. Unfortunately, FIT's mascot falls short on all these aspects.

- Jessica - 3 stars - While the Fashion Institute of Technology's mascot is not the worst I've seen, it doesn't inspire much excitement either. An owl as a mascot for a fashion institute is quite puzzling and feels out of place. Additionally, the design of the mascot lacks creativity and fails to make a lasting impression. It would be great to see FIT come up with a new mascot that truly represents the fashion industry and ignites a sense of pride among its students and alumni.

The Fashion Institute of Technology Mascot: Building School Spirit and Unity