At first, I thought this was just another checkered shirt beset by some splatter, like the one Dua wore the other day that looked like she’d whacked the living daylights out of a bottle of French’s mustard. But then I peered closer, which in The Art of Fug is both a useful and often terrible idea all at once, and spotted… a… wrap… component? With some.. bra-like… flourishes? It is as if someone pranked an alien designer by handing it a tablecloth and a string bikini and saying, “This is the kind of shit they like to work with on Earth — it’s messed UP down there,” not expecting good ol’ Gzrxk to make a run at it. Truly, it is an ellipsis shirt, best described by the three little dots that suggest no description at all.
In other words: WORDS.
