Golf diversified portfolio shirt

Product Description

The boots Golf diversified portfolio shirt were first created in 1945 by a young German army doctor, Klaus Märtens, who designed an air-cushioned sole to help his recovery from a broken foot. They made their debut in Britain in 1960 when a Northamptonshire footwear maker started producing them. Their sturdy design made them popular among postal delivery workers and factory staff, and was later embraced by skinheads and punks. These days, Dr Martens is a mainstream bootmaker. Christian Dior probably did more than anyone in the history of fashion to make an hourglass figure a symbol of the perfect woman. The tiny waists and exaggerated curves of his 1947 New Look collection were not just a fashion sensation but a cultural one. Dior cut a visual template for femininity that ruled unchallenged for the second half of the 20th century. So Marlene Dietrich, the pioneer of androgyny who seduced Hollywood in a suit, tie and top hat, was an unexpected muse for Dior’s latest catwalk collection, staged at the Brooklyn Museum in New York on Monday evening. With their hair lacquered into Dietrich-style waves, models wore starched white shirts and slouchy pleat-front trousers, velvet evening pyjamas, or cowl-necked gowns cut from slivers of inky silk. “She was hyper glamorous,” the Dior designer, Maria Grazia Chiuri, said backstage, “and one of the first actors to understand the power of a look to define who she was”.

Golf diversified portfolio shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt

Unisex shirt

Women’s shirt

Longsleeve shirt

Sweater

Hoodie

In the Golf diversified portfolio shirt Shein EZWear collection, I find a super-short plunging V-neck dress split vertically from the waist to the hem with ruching. Long straps crisscross in a double X on the open back and cinch the waist in the front. The fabric looks like cotton jersey; it’s 91% polyester and 9% elastane (100% plastic). There are five colours available: black and brown – which are both, apparently, “HOT” – bright pink, royal blue and emerald green. The model is Photoshopped into Jessica Rabbit proportions, with a tiny waist, wide hips and enormous breasts, her collarbones jutting out several inches. She is tan and hairless, and she is headless. She poses in front of a bedroom set, crumpled white sheets, ivory macrame pillowcases, and drawings of flowers framed in gold. We see her as she sees herself in the mirror, angled to get a look at her whole outfit. She wears white sneakers, a miniature pink handbag and a gold necklace with a tiny red cherry charm. Below, under “customers also viewed”, a sea of identical headless models in black dresses reads like a Captcha image. Ibegan to fall in love with clothes in 2005, when I was eight. I wanted to wear bright colours and bold patterns that could make people smile or be drawn to my otherwise shy self. I was learning, rapidly, that clothing could do the work of personality. I went shopping with my mom at stores such as the Gap and Banana Republic, but their offerings were stoic and muted. Zara, which opened its first LA store that year, was different: its enormous glass windows were full of trendy, fun pieces and teenage looks I dreamed of wearing. When the Swedish brand H&M opened its first LA store the next year, I was primed for it. Here were the brilliant Zara clothes at child-allowance prices. I could take a $20 bill and come back from the mall beaming with a new outfit. I never thought about why the clothes were so cheap. I just loved that they could be mine.