As someone whose wardrobe is littered with white, high-neck vests (I’m a queer Gen Z-er, it’s kind of like our uniform), I’ve always felt vaguely unsettled by the term “wife-beater”. While the name is largely retired these days, the recent resurgence of the simple white vest’s popularity means that the nickname is always lurking in the background, like a slur you know not to say. One white vest can cast an awfully dark shadow.
The implication was always that the white vest was the attire of Stella Artois-sloshing, red-faced male abusers, sweaty and unshaven, ready to launch into violence at any moment. But it’s come far since these associations, and has transcended into a sort of trendy gay uniform. Now more likely to be spotted on an individual with nose piercings and a mullet than someone with an St George’s flag tattoo and a bald head, the wife-beater needs a new name for its new aura.
