Mesos and mimosas shirt

Product Description

The red Mesos and mimosas shirt white and blue of the union jack are inevitably all present and correct, principally through colour blocking: Sawyers wears a red hoodie, while Cunningham is in a royal blue quarter zip. This could be a nice idea – a clever deconstruction of a flag with a problematic history, even – but it’s muddied with the “seen from space” graphics. While of course the team name needs to be visible, Great Britain written across the chests of athletes, whether they’re wearing a vest or a tracksuit top, is an unimaginative take. The blandness might be down to the fact that this kit is designed inhouse by Adidas’ design team, rather than a fashion name. Stella McCartney worked on the Olympic kits for 2012 and 2016, and for the fashion-inclined these still loom large. The cut-up union jack design for 2012 or the blown-up lion for 2016 might not be to everybody’s taste but they do show the potential of kits when a designer working outside of sportswear is on board. Imagine, in 2024, a kit designed by British talent like sportswear visionary Saul Nash?

Mesos and mimosas shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt

Unisex shirt

Women’s shirt

Longsleeve shirt

Sweater

Hoodie

Fully on the Mesos and mimosas shirt dress barely covers my chest – I can’t lean, bend or jump without flashing my reflection, and any large steps cause the super-high thigh slit to rise dangerously close to my ass. Standing still, though, I look good: sexy, trendy, youthful. But I quickly discover that the dress is too tight to pull over my head. How did I get in here? I shimmy and curse until I’m able to wrench the dress off me, where it springs back, tauntingly, to its original shape. Laid flat on the floor, the form is like a cartoon body: a perfect hourglass, smooth and dramatically curving. My new Shein clothes lie in a crumpled pile on my living room floor for a week. I can’t figure out what to do with them. Neither garment is particularly wearable, but the hassle of returning the pieces (or donating them, or selling them to a thrift store) seems absurd when they cumulatively cost me less than $15 to begin with. The idea of folding them up and placing them in my dresser alongside my other clothing feels defeating. I think briefly about trying to sew them into something new, but again – the hassle. Mostly I don’t think about them at all. The garments cost so little that I don’t feel pressure to make them fit my wardrobe, or my life. I’ve already forgotten why I wanted these particular clothes in the first place.