The End of the Affair

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It began nearly 2 years ago. A simple glance at her smooth, shiny back had caught my eyes. With time, I came to appreciate her unyielding sense of security and chameleon-like personality. She was everything I had every wanted – all enrobed in a vest.

Yes, these are the confessions of a former vest addict. Whether it was a simple T, a hoodie, or a dress shirt, my vest, or rather – vests – were a wardrobe staple. Acquired from various vintage stores in Toronto, I had one in every required colour (black, grey, blue, brown); some solid, some with stripes; some with three buttons, some with two. To sum it up, my love affair with the vest could be compared to Mariah Carey’s affixation for Lycra mini-dresses.

Not my vest, but this will do…. (www.urbanoutfitters.com)

But something has happened in the past few months. Once a statement of casual cool, the vest has become a statement of, “Hey, I can shop at H & M too! I’m a hipster. I love you Pete!” With cheap, stiff, corduroy versions being sold at Old Navy & co., if the vest’s coolness were tracked like stocks, it would be a descent of Enron-ic proportions.

To add to it, the vest simply doesn’t feel right anymore. I feel like the mood in fashion is cleaner, more basic, more minimal. Once a “pick-me-up” to a basic shirt, the vest seems more of a hindrance. For once, a plain Tee doesnt feel so plain.

I may wear them a few more times, but let’s face it – the passion is dead. So there they sit – my beautiful 2-button, blue vest with a thin, metallic grey thread next to my basic, perfectly cut, 3-button black vest. So there they will sit, in waiting, until some future, possibly non-existent, date, when we shall be reunited. Wishful thinking? Maybe. Hopelessly romantic? You’ve got me all figured out.