If there’s one thing I hate, it’s most things. But especially right now, the use of the term, “living your best life”. Ahhhhggg — it’s physically uncomfortable to even write it down. Why is this asinine expression of empty-headed enthusiasm so popular? It’s like having your teeth pulled by a phrase.
Thing is, I like slang. At least I like slang that’s the result of unique cultural experiences, burgeoning friendships, cultish music fanbases, specific passion centres. What I object to is the wave of empty, colourless terms presumably born of an internet meme and then repeated endlessly, in every possible circumstance by the middle-class and middle-aged. Come on mum of two, put down that ‘must-have’ & Other Stories top and say ‘bantz’ for me. Come on, say ‘winninggg!’ — specifically every time something wholly unremarkable happens. Even the BBC are at it, they’re now peddling the idea of “living your Christmas best life”, or some such twaddle.
Fuck this life. Here’s a shirt.
There’s velvet ribbon on this thing. So if you wore it to the office, you could expect the kind of person who likes saying ‘winning’ to point out that because velvet ribbon is a bit Christmassy, it’s a Christmas shirt. “Hooray for you, living your best Christmas life.” Of course, it’s not a fucking Christmas shirt, it’s a shirt with some velvet trim by Japanese brand Nisica. It’s the kind of shirt the ‘winning’ individual could never understand if they lived to be 1000 and watched the earth steadily erode to a lifeless asteroid, before finding themselves floating in deep space sad and alone, with no one to have great bantz with.
You can go for black velvet trim or (Santa’s favourite a-hahahahahhahahahah) a deep burgundy. And you’ll notice the velvet detail runs up the front, the left sleeve and the centre back. A neat collar, a loose silhouette and a chest pocket round this piece off.
I think it’s quite strong. As a ‘get noticed’ piece it’s a decent alternative to patchwork shirting. My advice — don’t wear it to the office Christmas bash. You’ll end up grimacing through so much bell-end ‘humour’ you might snap and end up trying to drown someone in the punch.