I already know what happens, should I ever come up with the idea, this sweater over tea with my well-known Grandma to carry „ how amusing, so something Grandpa did no, yes its half life, so that you can use today again modern finds this is really delicious! “ my father, however, would clearly visible tapping with the finger against his own forehead and secretly wonder this , how many superfluous toads I probably made for a such figment of stuffiness to the table. Who for many years was forced to wear similar Sweatshirt material for tennis training, which usually is really not yet times voluntarily does to itself same. Unless it was gebrainwashed like me. By rag & bone, for example, by Karen Walker or DKNY. But I told already.
Much more problematic than wearing this sweater is as however the wearing of anything. The giant eyelet cutout thank you.
So I had the choice:
Wear nothing underneath 1. The problem: The existence of two important factors in my life: medium-sized breasts + moderately pronounced shame limit that would be exceeded with the next handle to the laces however.
2 blouse underneath. Tried and discovered within a few seconds as a bad idea. Is also on my pony, which would complete the aura of Biedermeier in doubt. Only not in the positive, playful meaning, but in the radical nerdish.
3 T-Shirt or top underneath. Doesn’t work either. Reminiscent of one of my old teachers who love wearing jewelry from fossil to the neck. Should wear while everyone what you like, but for me personally, because too many memories in the game are. The large, gray woman continuously verscheuchte us from the smoking area on the schoolyard and then write off the debt order us settled for example.
4 sports bra under it. Best with the Nike swoosh. Gebongt. Because little stuffy, a bit weird, and yet sporty. The 2003s lovers of my wardrobe is hereby established.