Fashion Victim: Deep Vees
I scratched my head for a little while to come up with something to fug this week. I know, I know. I’m not entirely sure that there’s nothing wrong with me either. But my reasons are thus: firstly, for once, I kind of like most of this season’s trends? Minimalist colour-blocking is a-ok by me, despite my penchant aversion to all things colourful. I’m completely at home in skirts mini, midi, and maxi (excepting, of course, that they can be only one of these lengths at any given time). I like gender-bending shirt-and-trouser looks, but I like this season’s feminine details too. And though I normally reserve stripes for prison onesies and goth-kids socks, I have to say (like everyone else) that the Prada and Jil Sanders collections were fucking ace. So there’s not an awful lot to fug about. Number two: for once, it seems like fashion seems to have slowed down a little bit. This may appear contrary to the fact of ever increasing Couture, Pre-Spring, Spring/Summer, Pre-Post Spring, Pre-Resort, Resort, Post-Resort, Pre-Pre-Fall, etc etc etc seasons that get covered on style.com. But allow me to submit for your approval—flip flops are still a thing. People are still committing crimes against their ankles. Stores are still selling rompers and playsuits. And despite my endless rampaging, there are certain individuals who still leave the house in sweatpants. It almost makes a gal want to break down and burn her wardrobe.
One of those unfortunately malignancies that just won’t die is that most ubiquitous of all t-shirt cuts, the v-neck. Most of us have seen the light, realizing that the longeveity on these was about two weeks that one summer. Since then, they’ve been relegated to gym bags and laundry bins.
It’s true to say that they mostly haven’t seen the light of day since then. Aside from suburban hipsters (who, it might be added, are still wearing keffiyehs and girl jeans unironically) I’ve only managed to see a handful of these in the wild. Fortunately, all of these sightings were on television.
I guess I lead a pretty sheltered life, in one sense. I’ve got my blogs, I’ve got my magazines, I live in a city with a poorly planned, but accessible subway. I know my trends. I point these things out for the following reasons: no self-respecting blogger posts anything wearing a v neck anymore. Two: even magazines (excepting, like, Cosmo) have left off suggesting that v necks are ‘fun and flirty.’ We’re kind of over it. Three: sorry if you live in Etobicoke, but I can’t get behind any trend that’s supported by people who voted for Rob Ford. (I bet he still wears a v-neck. It really elongates the neck.)
I wish we could trace this trend back to, oh, I don’t know, 2007 or 2008, and slap the Olsen twins for unleashing yet another much-abused look. (In case you’ve forgotten, this was when they pioneered gladiator sandals and boyfriend cut-offs, neither of which, I might add, we’ve totally recovered from.) And sure, I mean, we all thought this was so chic and raced to our local American Apparel (who, of course, had not yet tapped into the limitless geyser of bad known as the deep v—it was all just regular vs back then) to pick up seventeen million of them. (Ironically, I’ll draw your attention to the black slinky maxi dress that even the most stalwart trend jumper was all “hale no!” about. Oh look. What happened.)
So that happened. Everyone picked on this crap like it was hotcakes. These peaked necklines virtually defined my university years, and everyone who was anyone (good looking) was always scoping out anyone else who was anything (good looking) because they were naturally wearing the most obnoxiously cleavage-baring t shirt (referring here to both the female and male variations).
But still, I mean, this was like, four years ago. We reached absolute market saturation in like, two days. It got boring and old and then the next biggest thing to happen was to rag on these things like they were going out of style. (Of course, the post-ironic irony of it all was that they actually were.) No one likes a hipster, and no one especially liked a hipster in a v neck. Deep vs were a like a giant d-bag warning prior to Christian Audigier designing his first fake tattoo-shirt. I mean, I doubt that Ed Hardy would have even figured out its niche if it weren’t for good ol’ Dov.
So here we are. We’ve all realized the horrible, horrible error of our sartorial ways and saved our deepest vs for laundry days, when the only clean underwear you have left is a pair of swimming suit bottoms or your period panties.
Yet, it persists. It keeps lingering, like that awful one-night stand you met that one night at 751 who still texts you once a month being all “yo girl miss that sweet thing when u free?” In fact, I bet he was wearing a v neck. I also bet he had chest pubes.
You can still see them at the clubs, beating the proverbial beat. Maybe your little brother or sister has a few that they wear out when they’re going somewhere cool downtown. Maybe they even like the new Christian Audigier perfume. These are all hypotheses, though. To be honest I have no clue how every single one of these unfortunate shirts haven’t been put to flames. All I can do is to fulfill my sartorial duty to remind you (and warn you) that these things, like herpes, will never go away. So beware, and dance up on folks accordingly.
Or, you know, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe all we need are a few more months for the threadbare remnants to fall apart like everything you’ve ever bought from American Apparel. And maybe once that happens, we’ll all have wizened up for good, and no one will buy anymore again, ever, and Dov and his company can finally die their last, bankrupt-flirting death and get set out to that ol’ hipster pasture in the sky.