The Uniform That Set Us Apart: GCI White, Blue & Wine, 1991 – 1996

If you were a GCI boy between 1991 and 1996, you didn’t just put on clothes in the morning. You put on identity.

And Ibadan could tell the difference before you even spoke.

The Kit Only GCI Boys Could Wear

1. The White & Blue Check Shirt
Not plain white. Not any check. It was the GCI check. Sharp, square, unmistakable. From Agodi Gate to Challenge, you were spotted instantly.

2. The School Tie – Wine & Blue, No Crest
Worn for ceremonial events, assembly, and Sunday church. Wine and blue stripes, clean and simple. No crest on it, but you didn’t need one. Everyone already knew what school it was. Tie short, tie long, tie crooked… you were still a GCI boy.

3. The Sweater – Navy Blue with the GCI Crest
Heavy, warm, and proud. The GCI crest was embroidered on the left side of the chest. Over your shoulder in harmattan. Folded neatly on your arm when it was hot. It was our badge of honor.

The Rule That Made It Sacred: You Couldn’t Buy It in Town
Government policy was clear: School Stores only.

No Dugbe Market. No Bodija. No roadside tailor in Oja’ba could legally sell it.
Lost a tie? Back to school. Brother coming to JSS1? Wait for resumption to kit him.

That monopoly did something to us. It made the uniform rare. It made it valuable. It made it ours.

“GCI and the Others”
Because of that uniform, Ibadan felt like it had two schools:

1. GCI
2. Everybody else

Walk through any neighborhood in full check, tie, sweater over your shoulder… people looked twice.
Keke drivers would nod. Shop owners would greet you with extra respect. Other school boys would step aside.

We weren’t all from rich homes. Most of us were “Tirogo” boys 😂 But the uniform gave us a feeling of elite status. The state had marked us out, and the cloth proved it.

What That Uniform Did to ‘91 Jan Set

1. Belonging: In any crowd, you found your people. One glance at the check and you had a brother. No words needed.
2. Pride: You couldn’t afford to look shabby. You ironed well. You polished. You tucked in. The uniform demanded order.
3. Responsibility: Misbehave outside school in that check and “GCI boy” would be the headline. You carried the name of the college everywhere you went.

The tie choked us. The sweater was hot. But we wore them like armor.

When the Code Changed
Today, the rule is gone.

You can find “GCI check” fabric in the market now. Tailors will sew the tie and sweater for you. The exclusivity has faded.

The “two schools in Ibadan” feeling has softened too. Anyone can buy the look now.

And we ‘91 Jan Set men? We’ve exchanged the uniform for suits, scrubs, khaki, agbada. We’re in offices, traffic, hospitals — chasing the hierarchy of needs. Daily bread replaced school stores.

But The Feeling Hasn’t Left Us
Show any ‘91 Jan Set man an old GCI tie or sweater today and watch.

Three seconds of silence. Then laughter. Then memories.

“Who remembers folding his sweater like a pilot?”
“Who tied his tie so long it touched his belt for assembly?”
“Who hid his tie in his sock during games?”

Because before the clubs, before the slangs, before Great Hall shows… there was the uniform.

White & Blue Check. Wine & Blue Tie for ceremonial events. Navy Sweater with the GCI crest on the left chest.
Only at GCI. Only for us.

It told Ibadan: “This is GCI.”
It told us: “You belong to something different. Act like it.”

A Charge to ‘91 Jan Set
For our 35th, let’s keep that symbol alive.

1. Find It: Who still has a tie, sweater, or piece of the check? Take a photo.
2. Tell It: Post: “This uniform made me feel __ in 1994.”
3. Preserve It: Let’s create a “91 Jan Set Heritage Corner” at GCI with the original uniform, photos, and crest — so the boys after us know what we carried.

The market may sell the cloth now.
But it cannot sell the meaning.
It cannot sell the era when GCI was GCI, and the rest were the others.

That was us. That was ‘91 Jan Set.



Submitted by:*Mayowa Akingbohungbe* GCIOBA ‘91 Jan Set