There's an old joke about the Ivy League schools which asks how many students from each college it would take to change a lightbulb. At “posh”, “preppy” Princeton, you'd need two: one to mix the martinis, and one to call an electrician. At “elitist” Harvard, you'd only need one: he holds the lightbulb, and the rest of the world revolves around him. The joke has been told with knowing smiles by Ivy alumni for decades; there's an answer for each school, which plays humorously on their stereotypical “identities”.

Brown certainly hasn't produced the same number of political giants as some of its more prestigious cousins: 4 of the 50 current state governors were educated within its walls, but it cannot name a single US president amongst its alumni. In fact, in keeping with its “laid-back” reputation, Brown's most famous students have thrived in more “alternative” careers. It is the alma mater of actresses Julie Bowen (Modern Family), Laura Linney (triple Oscar nominee), and Emma Watson (Harry Potter); and also of technology superstars John Sculley (Apple CEO), Thomas Watson Jr. (IBM CEO), and David Ebersman (Facebook CFO). The school does seem to promote success – just via a rather different path to the Harvards, Yales and Princetons of the world.

What is the town like?

Travelling the short distance down from Boston to Providence – the town in which Brown is nestled – I wasn't expecting to find much of a contrast between two capitals of adjacent, affluent northeastern states (Massachusetts and Rhode Island, respectively). This preconception was quickly dispelled: the two towns share that famous New England drawl for an accent*, but little else.

Part of Boston's charm comes from its fusion of working-class history and a thriving modern business sector: crumbling warehouses and shiny skyscrapers are huddled together on a tiny peninsula. Providence, however, is still stuck in an industrial hang-over. The proud forge of America's jewellery and glassware was put out of business by foreign producers in the 1980s, and has never really recovered. Empty factories are dotted either side of the Seekonk River that runs through downtown; construction work dominates the western edge of Brown's campus. The teeming market streets of Boston's Italian and Irish neighbourhoods are nowhere to be found.

What does the university look like?

Brown's “relaxed” ethos and Providence's economic slumber are both reflected in the layout of the campus: where Cambridge has reminders at every corner of Harvard's prestige, you could easily stroll through Providence without ever realising that you are passing a world-famous institution. Blank department buildings sit on quiet boulevards, surrounded by thrift shops, cafes, and the odd building site. There is an irritating lack of roadsigns, which seems to sum up the whole “vibe” of the place.

But Brown also has its share of beautiful quads, if you can find them – more striking, in my opinion, than the over-hyped Harvard Yard (though perhaps not quite as impressive as the lawns at Yale). A trek up College Hill, which would certainly tone your calf muscles over a four year degree, leads to a number of stunning courts. Students looking for a peaceful spot to read are spoilt for choice, with plenty of room on the Main Green, Ruth J. Simmons Quadrangle, Hughes Court, Patriot's Court, Keeney Quadrangle, or aptly named “Quiet Green”. It's not hard to see why “chilling out” is such a popular option here.

What impression did you get of the students?

Once again, I set myself the ridiculous task of assessing an entire student body on the basis of a few momentary encounters. Just as I found at Harvard (and the other Ivies later in this series), it was very difficult to look objectively at the place and the people without being influenced by their general reputation. I was also hindered by the fact that it was still orientation week, and only a handful of “Brunonians” were lounging around.

Were these students any different to those at other top institutions? They certainly struck me as more welcoming, and less wary of outsiders. Where in Cambridge (and later in New Haven) my touristy antics were greeted with mirth, in Providence they were hardly noticed – despite the fact that I had forgotten my tripod, and ended up using hedges, ledges and even my shoes to angle my camera. I was even mistaken for a senior by various misguided freshmen, who asked me for directions around campus. If most college visits made me feel like an outsider, then Brown created the opposite effect.

What were the admissions staff like?

At most other Ivies, I had lots of success getting hold of staff at my favoured department (English), and little when it came to approaching the “Special Student Office”, for visiting graduates; at Brown, the opposite was true. I made very little progress contacting the English faculty, but was offered a face-to-face meeting with the head of the Special Student programme, who was an utter delight, and incredibly helpful.

I was given a number of insider tips about applying to Brown, and – quite selflessly, and unexpectedly – reminded to consider some of the limitations of the school as well. There was a real sense that the admissions staff were interested in me as a person, and what courses (even at other colleges) would suit me best. The various Ivy League admissions offices I visited were mostly excellent when it came to aiding prospective applicants – but Brown really stood out for me as the best.