The utterly incomprehensible fact of actually playing ball in any of the above (except maybe my sports watch), is joyfully irrelevant: 'Sports Luxe' returns to the 90s, where it should be.
Since my Nike pavement-pounding escapades, the term 'Sports Luxe' has been exhausted by editorial publications and online stores alike. And rightly so - how else does one christen Phoebe Philo and Rafa Nadal's lovechild? Granted, Philo is probably somewhat inspired by Nadal... but we digress. In its moment of glory, the 'Sports' half of the equation has slid further and further back towards the 90s, and just like that, an innocent combination of a grey jersey crop, elasticated leather skirt and blinding incognito somehow becomes reminiscent of Claudia Schiffer's hey day. The utterly incomprehensible fact of actually playing ball in any of the above (except maybe my sports watch), is joyfully irrelevant.
However, the purposes of this exercise (ba-da-bing!), my get-up is physical-exertion-friendly, and we move on to the argument of the crop.
My mother, and yours no doubt, makes herself quite clear on one side of this midriff-baring fence. For years before now, trashtastic festival goers had me clambering in that other direction too (with the exception of tropical circumstances). But with this cropped skintight jersey came a revelation. With one's chest region tucked away beneath an ever flattering rollneck (bonus points for covered arms), you're well on the way out of skank city. Add booty shorts, and you're back the square one, but tailored wide-leg pants? We may as well give you the Nobel Peace Prize. Given the Versace namesake of my beloved new blazer, though, I did find it fitting to settle for a shorter hem, which while not quite as short as Claudia's 1994 lengths, leaves both a little and a lot to the imagination.
So where do you stand on this war on midriffs?
Yay? Nay? Ab...stentions?
I'm on a roll... neck.