on sunday i saw the first short-sleeved shirt of the season. He was a friend. “But what are you wearing?” I asked annoyed. I think there should be no such shirts. What a need. They are the ridiculous landmark of fashion. Short-sleeved T-shirts already exist, and they’re perfect, they don’t need little sisters. Hopefully one day they will disappear, or be reduced to folklore, to a little thing, like bicarbonate, mesh shoes, the first novel, matchboxes, the line in the middle. I do not deny that it can be a hurtful desire, and too arrogant, especially for people – some friends – who have clothes like this in the closet and the day to put them on is near. Forgive me.
The infinitely superior long-sleeved shirt It was created for heat and cold, for everything at the same time, to be worn under another garment or alone. It is an absolute classic. And let’s not say if it’s white. Of course, it was also created to roll up sleeves. Rolling up your sleeves is an action without which humanity would not have reached any summit. Life exudes charm because it opposes difficulties, makes you sweat, demands of you suffering, and then you roll up your sleeves, get down to work and solve your damn problems. You don’t have them all with you, but you roll up your sleeves and make your way.
Gestures are important. They often establish elegance. A shirt that prevents you from rolling up your sleeves denies you one of the most beautiful movements unintentionally created by human beings. The short-sleeved shirt is an empty garment. Or emptied. It only serves to have less heat: pragmatism without a hint of class. To accept her in a closet you would have to be little less than Tom Selleck in magnumand walking around with a red Ferrari 308 GTS as a counterweight.
The short sleeve implies indolence, some softness. You can’t roll up your sleeves because you already are. What a failure. It’s like an obvious phrase. The short sleeve leaves elegance on the floor. I look at it and think “What a mistake”. And that I am in favor of mistakes, because an immaculate existence becomes kitsch. But the short-sleeved shirt, no. Life leaves us with much more attractive, more epic mistakes, like putting a comma wrong, combing your hair with gel, calling your partner “honey”. You can buy a short-sleeved shirt, put it on, but when you get to the entrance of the building, and take a good look in the mirror, a few meters from the street, you should repent and run home and change it. That forgives you sin.
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In short sleeves you can see that you desperately want to cut corners, skip steps, go straight to relief, throwing the class overboard. So much comfort is not necessary. Comfort must be conquered. He has his paperwork. Are you hot? you roll up your sleeves Are you still hot? You’ll wait! There are worse dramas. Getting hot flashes just means you’re alive. It’s always worth rolling up your sleeves first one arm, then the other, without haste, above the elbow, and even then say “Holy shit, how hot”, so that you don’t have sleeves and you’re cool, giving yourself over to vulgarity.