Repeller

Shopping PSA: Être Cecile and I Are Making T-Shirts

I have given up trying to be French. It will not happen. Chiefly because I am American — and technically speaking, there is nothing wrong with being American. If I’m being really honest, I think I’ve heretofore only liked pretending that I want to be French. It makes me feel cooler. Like I am initiated and pretentious in an endearingly snobby way that is naive and therefore relatable because, you know, I’m actually American. But here’s the thing, I still like to pretend that I want to be French for the reason specified in the previous sentence. So I don’t think I’m going to stop. I know it makes me an impostor, but because of a recent t-shirt collaboration slated to roll out before you have to quit t-shirts for sweaters, at least it also makes me a chest-covered impostor.

Have you ever heard of Etre Cecile? It’s a UK-based brand that primarily sells t-shirts and sweatshirts. They are cooler than both bagels and health-food products and you can find them loitering among the pages of Matchesfashion.com, The Corner and Shopbop. Most recently, the brand — which is spearheaded by genius dresser, Yasmin Sewell and her husband — collaborated with fellow Australian psychopath and newly-minted Medine family member, Laura Brown of Harper’s Bazaar fame.

On Laura’s shirts, there are horses. These horses yell “On y va!” or “CHARGE” in metallic block letters and are cast against a background that is both colorful and neutral in that special way that only strategic overstimulation can be.

And now, there’s me. There is me and there are my shirts. Most of which are short sleeved but one is not. It is a muscle tee and mimics one of the three t-shirt styles, set in white, featuring black serif letters that read, you guessed it!, “Am I French Yet?”

The answer will always be no, but at least a conversation will be born 9/10 times. (I know this to be fact.) There is another t-shirt, it is navy blue, and in metallic multi-colored letters the word “Repousse-Mec” is spelled out. This, not coincidentally, is also French. It means “Man Repeller” but also offers us this evolved sense of je ne sais dimensionality because, look at that, we are now bilingual.

Finally, in what is perhaps my favorite t-shirt of the lot, there is the question of whether people truly know that pockets are there for your boob. As such, they are called boob pockets.

Of course, I put the qualm to rest in red embroidery cast over, once again, something indigenously French — stripes, and now you, my friends, are liable to get in on, uh, le plaisir.

Chin chin.

(Etre Cecile x Man Repeller)

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