What was I thinking buying this mesh polo?
On comfort zones, buyer's remorse, and fresh ceviche.
It started how all tragedies start — with a leftover store credit from a Christmas gift that didn’t fit.
Of course, an online store credit has the same “burning a whole in your pocket” feeling that you get when you take cash out of an ATM on vacation. I’m not sure if I’m worried I’ll forget about it or if I just want that instant high of buying something, but I went against all odds and somehow saved my credit to use during a Spring/Summer 2022 drop.
Well, kind of.
What started with a return around Christmas has now turned into a constant carousel of purchases and communication. I’m essentially pen pals with the nameless customer service person on the other side of my monthly emails stemming from purchase-only-to-immediately-return pieces that just haven’t seemed to work yet.
A pair of green denim pants that were both too long through the leg and too tight through the crotch.
A pair of sweatpants that I wish were just a liiiiiittle more cropped.
A pair of pleated shorts that say 34” yet don’t fit like every other pair of 34s I have.
A realization that maybe my lower-half just isn’t destined to fit in Aimé garments.
Upon having that epiphany, I set my sight on something that’s become somewhat of a thorn in my side over the last two summers — “going out” shirts. My favorite linen popovers have seen the end of the road. Austin summers are too hot to wear the APC denim short sleeve button down (and yes, you know why). But most of all, I simply need to pump the brakes on camp collars as my recent sale purchases from Billy Reid and Drake’s have filled my camp collar quota for the year.
Immediately upon receiving Aimé’s SS22 (Second Installment) email, I did what one does when they receive a drop email from ALD — I selected “View All,” added everything my heart desired to my cart without looking at prices, and then I sorted through the pile once I had a full picture of what I was working with.
The items that made the final cut? The Windowpane Polo Cardigan in green and the item that would eventually make me reconsider every decision I’ve made in life, the Mesh Knit Polo in black.
At first glance, the black mesh polo looks fairly harmless. If it were that see-through, surely you’d be able to actually see through the hanging photo of the shirt on the website. And upon further review looking at the detail photos of the shirt itself, I became more and more of the thinking that this shirt may actually work.
Like with any large purchase, I began going through the bargaining process. But because pieces sell out so quickly on Aimé, I instead compacted all those emotions into about ten seconds of pure justification.
“I mean, no, I won’t wear this polo on the golf course,” I told myself, “but between weddings in Cabo and Italy this summer, surely I’ll find myself in more than enough situations to justify burning my store credit on this.”
Accept terms and conditions. Autofill. Credit card code. Confirm purchase.
And now, we wait.
It’s a process I’ll refer to as “purchase-edging.” You’ve bought the item and received the confirmation email. Hell, you may even be lucky enough to have a projected delivery date. But much like listening to a band ahead of their concert to reach peak levels of excitement and anticipation, “purchase-edging” allows you to do just the same.
Well, sometimes.
I pulled up the shirt from my confirmation email and clicked into it to really lean into the edging. Realizing they had a white version of the shirt, I figured I could click into that product and see more detail that may cool my concerns even more.
“…oh no,” I gasped. “What have I done.”
I squinted and stared deeply into the screen. “Can I… can I see his… his nipples?”
I truly couldn’t tell. It could be the studio lighting. An illusion created by the shirt’s gauging. A shadow, even. Or, in my hell of hells, it’s just blatantly a fucking nipple.
But even now, I can’t actually tell if I see if a nipple or not. I feel like I’m looking at a Magic Eye book from 1992. It’s a sensation I haven’t felt since watching scrambled channels at my buddy’s house at 2 a.m. after his parents had gone to bed. However, in this case, seeing a nipple doesn’t inspire the excitement it once did. Quite the opposite, actually — I mean, I can’t be the guy showing up to a casual group dinner with his nipples out. I’m not a character from Skins heading to a nightclub on a school night; I’m a 35-year-old father of one who simply wants to look sharp on vacation while eating ceviche.
Normally when I see Aimé’s trademark model wearing something, I get a false sense of bravado thinking I’ll look as good as he does in it. But in this case, I got anything but.
In my frenzied checkout process, I didn’t take into consideration looking at other photos of the shirt in a different color. Of course you can’t see the actual gauging on the detail photos of the black shirt. It’s a black shirt.
Well, shit.
The fabric was softer than I’d imagined. As I held it up toward the light, I was both encouraged and frightened — happy to see that it would very likely fit perfectly, while also acknowledging that I can literally hold the shirt two feet from my face and see the tree outside my apartment window through it.
Worried the tacos I had for lunch would cause it to fit snuggly upon the first wear, I tossed it over my head and let it fall into place by itself. Based on feel alone, I was in love. But not “in love” in the way that makes you want to scream it from the rooftops. I’m talking “in love” in the way a sixth-grader fawns over his crush in silence only to proudly pronounce that he DOESN’T ACTUALLY LIKE HER, YOU GUYS out of embarrassment when pressed at a sleepover.
But if this shirt were my Mount Everest, I was just now reaching the Khumbu Icefall portion of my ascent. The most treacherous and precarious part that all-but-decides my fate. With hesitation and fear coursing through my veins, I lumbered into our master bathroom and took the leap. I was now standing *gasps* in front of the mirror.
Had I essentially just purchased a screen door for my torso? Did I really think buying a see-through shirt after a winter of not working out was the move? Are those… are those my nipples?
It certainly took no Sherlock Holmes to crack The Case of the Reappearing Nipples. In this case, I was just a boy. Standing in front of a mirror. Trying to see how egregious his nipples actually were.
I turned to the side. The shirt itself was incredibly slimming.
I blurred my eyes. It suddenly a short-sleeve cable-knit sweater. That is, until I un-blurred my eyes.
Adjusting, then readjusting, and then adjusting again, it took me no more than 60 seconds to come to the conclusion that the other parents at group dinners may look at me funny when I’m going full headlights over a bottle of cabernet.
Gently folding it to put back in its bag (with the tissue, mind you), I took the box and set it on the chair in our bedroom. After all, I have fourteen days to initiate a return, which has now just turned into a 14-day deliberation of how comfortable I am wearing something that’s out of my comfort zone.
That’s the thing though. It is comfortable. It’s also clean. It’s a piece I’d admire if I saw someone else wearing it. But considering I’ve spent most of my 30s wearing black t-shirts with Lululemon Utilitech pants, wearing a statement piece of this ilk brings out some natural hesitations.
Whether or not it will make the cut on a vacation in the near future, however, is a story that’s yet to be written — and probably one that ends with me frantically changing just minutes before our 8 o’clock reservation for ceviche.
Just get the cable knit polo from Malbon https://malbongolf.com/collections/polos/products/clubhouse-cable-knit-polo-black