Vests. I don't like them. I'm going to steer clear of the fashion, Mr. Shu vests in Glee, although they do look kind of silly. However, I'm talking about you, Old Navy Tech Vests. Anyone remember those? Or those puffy, quilted down vests like the douche bag in my picture. Perhaps I'm ill informed, but I don't understand how a vest keeps you warm. I get that, like Kevlar, it keeps your vital organs warm and not riddled with shrapnel, but when you're braving a chilly evening, don't you want your arms warm as well? If only they had a garment invention that kept both your torso and your arms warm? Oh wait, they do. It's called a coat.
Vests to me are like buying a package of light bulbs with no intention of buying the lamp. I mean, you've got the fundamental for warmth but nothing to plug it into. Forgive me if this rant infringes on your interpretation of the second amendment. However, I like my body to be streamlined and if my arms are at a lower perspective than my bellybutton, well, I'm just uncomfortable.
I'll end this with some poetry, Andrew Marvell style:
Here at the fountain's sliding foot,
Or at some fruit tree's mossy root,
Casting the body's vest aside,
My soul into the boughs does glide
And who knows better than a metaphysical poet when it comes to fashion?
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