The vest, the vest—or, depending on where you're from, the tank top—is one of the most divisive pieces of clothing. The stereotypical uniform of insufferable jocks, slackers, and Mr. Marlon Brando 's abusive protagonist in A Streetcar Named Desire (where did the problematic slang for them come from?), the vest has a reputation for being rather harsh. But with designers seemingly showing more and more tank tops on the runways, is there another side to the vest? Could there be a layering trick to learn, or should it simply never see the light of day? Two menswear editors go head-to-head.
Mr. ASHLEY OGAWA CLARKE , ASSOCIATE EDITOR
THE ARGUMENT IN FAVOR
I don't know exactly where the impulse came from, but a few months ago, I bought a bunch of cardigans. I'm talking five. This act of madness wasn't entirely unprecedented—it's not as if I'd never owned a cardigan before—but it surprised me. Maybe it was a kind of unconscious osmosis brought on by the fact that more and more designers, from Prada to Fendi , were showing cardigans on the runways. But who knows? The fact remains that I'm wearing them more and more, and frankly, I like them.
There are rules, though. I'm no tank top evangelist, running down the street with near-faint nipples whenever I get the chance. While I was more than happy to pack several vests for a sunny vacation last month, I wouldn't be caught off guard with my shoulders in them at the office, even in the form of a "sleeveless T-shirt." Still, I firmly believe that the vest has a place in the modern man's wardrobe, and not just when tucked under a shirt or lounging by the pool.
It's true that waistcoats have a somewhat frightening sartorial quality to them for those of us who are even slightly overweight; it only takes a few pounds to go from Mr. Bruce Lee 's fitted white waistcoat to Jim Royle 's lumpy, sad vest. Someone in my office, who is decidedly anti-waistcoat, even commented that they might make the wearer look "a bit dopey." Not something I want to do, personally. So how do you navigate this?
"The one thing in a man's wardrobe that can safely exude sex appeal."
The true charm of the vest, regardless of size, is revealed when it's layered over something else (but still visible). Imagine: a blazer, chore jacket, or overshirt worn over a vest. The vest is cut to reveal the chest, but not so much as to be vulgar, and the overall effect is one of casual confidence.
Even for someone like me who doesn't have a visible chest, a waistcoat under a blazer is immediately more suave than a T-shirt. A T-shirt under a blazer is casual at best, but a waistcoat is smarter and, in fact, sexier. The waistcoat is perhaps one of the only things in a man's wardrobe that gives sex appeal without being immediately vulgar. A bit like a thin chain necklace, but less predictable.
In recent years, I've seen more and more men wearing lounge suits to events with nothing underneath, which has always struck me as brave at best and mortifying at worst. A waistcoat does a much less mortifying job. A black tank top under a black blazer is a smart look I'd happily wear to the office or a restaurant, and with jewelry, I think it looks very elegant.
I'll admit that no other item in my wardrobe motivates me to use my gym membership like a vest. But overall, I think it's a good thing. If it takes a small piece of clothing to encourage me to do cable crossovers, I can only be grateful.
Mr. MAX WALLIS , POET AND WRITER.
THE CAUSE AGAINST
There has hardly ever been a less flattering garment than the vest. Like skinny jeans and fitted shirts, they demand an almost inhuman degree of perfection from the wearer. You need bulges in the right places—arms, shoulders, and pecs—and an absolute absence of bulges in the wrong places, which is to say, everywhere else.
They cling like a newborn, becoming a sort of thong for the upper body; a Y-front for the chest and stomach. They only fit athletes, runners, or Clark Kent . Even Mr. Timothée Chalamet couldn't pull it off when he was forced to wear one for Call Me By Your Name . He looked like an orphan fresh out of workhouse, and for once, those cheekbones couldn't save the day. So how lucky are we mere mortals? If the Almighty had wanted us to wear vests, he wouldn't have invented love handles.
Another problem with vests is tanning. Obviously, people wear vests in hot climates—you rarely see them in downtown Nuuk , Greenland, after all—and you inevitably end up with the vest tan, which makes the farmer's tan look dignified. Vest tan is one of the reasons why, for many years, people had a hard time taking Australians seriously. (I'm a quarter Australian, so I can say this with impunity.)
"If the Almighty had wanted us to wear vests, he would not have invented love handles."
They also have a particular connotation. What comes to mind when you think of gilets is Rabbi C Nesbitt and people stealing from pensioners. This may be unfair, or a little cruel. But no one can deny that it's a gospel truth—something immediately obvious to anyone who has visited the beer grounds of British provincial towns in summer.
So what's the alternative? The problem with the British male body (just as with the older Italian gentleman) is that it tends to get a bit lumpy on top, so fond are we of a pint of beer on a hot day. So, unless you have the body of a demigod, going topless is a no-go—and even then, it's a bit vulgar. Instead, let's opt for T-shirts with rolled-up sleeves and wear a size larger than we normally choose. A baggy T-shirt hides a multitude of sins and can even reveal a nonexistent physique.
I must admit that I once favored the cardigan—but, in my defense, I was spending the summer in Italy, and it was hotter than the depths of hell. I'm ashamed of it now, of course, but I was about two kilos lighter. Besides, it was a very remote village, so I think my sins should be forgiven.
In short, a vest should never be used as an underlayer. It's a garment to keep as thermal clothing in Val-d'Isère , when you need a little extra warmth for the day's adventures ahead. Like a sex toy, it should be hidden and used only in private. Die-hard fans will appreciate it.
Text by Mr. Ashley Ogawa Clarke and Mr. Max Wallis.
Still from the 1995 20th Century Fox film Die Hard.
