THE POLO PROBLEM

I don't know about you, but I don't fuck with polo shirts. It's been this way for a long time. I can't tell if it's the boring shape or the douche associations, but I just can't get down with the style. See? I'm already being an asshole about it and this is still the first paragraph.

"Why do you hate me?"

One of my problems is the basic design. It's in the uncanny valley between t-shirt and button-up. Thanks to a flaccid flap of fabric that manages to check the box of "collar", the polo is tailormade for guys who want to do the bare minimum at their business casual jobs (there's me being an asshole again). And despite my ardent protest, the style seems likely to stick around for another ninety goddamn years.

T-shirts are blank slates. Wear them with almost anything. Button-ups have structure. Wear them with everything else. Aside from tennis and beer pong, I don't know what polos are for. Some guys manage to wear them all the time and look good doing it. This is a complete mystery to me. Take this striped cotton-pique polo from Thom Browne:

It's great looking. But then I picture it on my body and I frown. Maybe my real problem is that I look like shit in polo shirts. Maybe I'm projecting my own insecurities on a style of shirt. Maybe I wish I could live that #golferlife in this understated joint from Norse Projects:

This is an uncomfortable moment for me. All along I thought I didn't fuck with polo shirts. But turns out polo shirts just don't fuck with me. I guess I have some real soul-searching to do.