My mother was a notoriously sharp-tongued woman. Of all the derisive epithets in her arsenal, none was as cutting as “tacky.” To be caught wearing something tacky was to be instantly downgraded in her estimation.
As the proverbial acorn does not fall far from the tree, I often find myself calling out those things that miss the mark of good taste.
What brings this to mind?
Last month, I purchased a tandem of face masks from Rowing Blazers, one in a broad navy and mint green stripe and the other in a black watch tartan. I bought these particular masks because of their American made pedigree.
Here’s the rub: They came with labels prominently and intractably attached to the front of the mask. The front, dear reader.
While I can appreciate the occasional discrete logo on a shirt, the tag goes on the inside. Full stop. End of story. Either by intention or out of ignorance, to do otherwise is unquestionably gauche–tacky in extremis.
Maybe I’m not quite as enamored as others are of Rowing Blazers regurgitated Tommy Hilfiger-esque take on the Ivy style. Some have called it “streetwear meets preppy.” It’s a sort of post-modern trad, a melding together of diverse influences, and I suppose there’s some value in that.
Which brings us back to these particular masks. On one level, I regret having to give them a middling review. They’re comfortable, well made and, aside from the glaring billboard for Rowing Blazers stitched on the outside, aesthetically pleasing. But the issue with the tags is simply too much to overcome.