The 30-Wears Collection // Exhibit 002 : The Chic Striped Tank

Meditations on the physical and emotional durability of a 10-year-old top.

Welcome to to the 30-Wears Collection: a “slow catalogue” dedicated to showcasing my most-worn pieces. By writing a tribute to each item, I hope to 1) create a personal record of my closet and style as it evolves, and 2) cultivate a practice of looking inwards as much as I do outwards as an admirer of beautiful garments.

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Exhibit 002 : The Chic Striped Tank

• Purchased from: unknown thrift store, 2013 or 2014

• Cost: ~$4 CAD

• Material: 50% cotton, 50% polyester

• Number of wears (from 2018-publishing): 74

The origin story of this well-loved striped tank is a bit fuzzy to me; in other words, I have no idea when or where I bought it. But I’m so glad I picked up this gem, likely during one of the many thrift hauls that marked my era of undirected style exploration. A relic of those youthful days, it rests among the oldest pieces in my closet. And, even rarer, it’s one I continue to reach for all the time — I’m up to 17 wears already this summer.

While I’ve cycled through countless printed blouses, vintage skirts, and cuts of denim along my journey of honing my preferences, this is an original that I’ve remained faithful to. I can’t recall purchasing — or even lusting after — another black-and-white striped top since this trusty garment entered my life.

Despite being a secondhand item and racking up an additional 100+ wears in the decade that I’ve owned it, this top is near-pristine. Only a small snag from my younger cat’s rambunctious kitten days denotes any signs of usage. Unfortunately, the brand tag has been cut off, but I’d postulate it’s from a Canadian brand due to the bilingual care label. And though I try to avoid synthetics in what I add to my wardrobe these days, the polyester content has undoubtedly added to the strength of the cotton knit, while making it infallibly easy to care for.

I credit this top as being my gateway to the boatneck, which I’ve found to be one of the most flattering necklines on me (even though I sometimes hate the concept of “flattering”). In last ten years, I’ve experimented with all breeds of tops, from saucy v-necks to the low square neck that trended a few years ago. Yet, I still feel most comfortable — most myself — in a wide, high neck that hugs my collarbones.

Outfits from 2017 (RIP my stolen turquoise bike), 2020, 2021, and 2024 (x2). Notice how I’ve travelled full circle with the bookending looks featuring denim shorts and black sandals.

This tank has seen a lot of action over the years, neatly slotting into different iterations of my personal style. With its thin horizontal stripes and sleek bateau neckline, I loved styling it with black linen culottes or blue skinny jeans for a quite on-the-nose cosplay of French Girl Chic back in the mid-2010s. Around that time, I also enjoyed wearing it with itty-bitty denim shorts as a go-to summer uniform — which then graduated to knee-length skirts, and has now evolved into the longer shorts I find myself living in.

Going through my camera roll, I couldn’t find too many intentional outfit grabs featuring this top, but I’m sure it shows up in the numerous photos my husband and loved ones have taken of me over the years. Perhaps a staticky whir in the background of a house party or a cheesy portrait posed behind a monstrous brunch concoction. I can’t recount the number of times I must have worn it to work, while travelling, or on bike rides around the city — a more elegant counterpart to the sporty crop tops I often see zipping along the lakeshore. It has the ability to instantly uplift whatever I’m wearing, making it feel more polished and presentable — even if it’s just a pair of men’s gym shorts and sandy Birkenstocks, with my wet hair piled messily atop my head.

While it may appear to be nothing more than a basic tank, it really is a standout piece to me. Everything about it — from the graceful neckline to the slim, slightly cropped fit — is the embodiment of my ideal sleeveless summer top. I have tried to replicate the shape, using it as a template for a failed sewing project still buried in my closet (how could I forget that linen has no stretch?). I’ve also hunted for tops in similar silhouettes made of silk noil or merino wool, with no luck (maybe I’ll have to work up the courage to dust off the sewing machine again).

Going a level beyond the physical appearance or tangible fit, it just feels great to put on. The intimate familiarity of my body encased in this sleeve of fabric, from slipping it on over and over again, is an integral part of my enduring affinity for this piece. While I feel like I’m still at the infatuation/dating stage with many of my newer clothes, my relationship with this garment has well progressed to the till-death-do-us-part realm (I do hope to outlive it though).

In her GQ article The Most Sustainable Idea In Fashion Is Personal Style, Rachel Tashjian writes: “We’ve taught ourselves that our clothing can only bring a sense of joy the first time we wear it. But there are ways to train yourself to love something every time you put it on. The real test for me is: can I put it on, forget about it for most of the day, remember I’m wearing it at 4 pm, and grin?”

This perfectly captures my dynamic with this old striped tank. I seldom think about it while I have it on, yet it still invokes moments of acute joy when I catch my reflection and see a me that feels recognizable and true.