YES

They say all publicity is good publicity. That no matter what’s being said about you, at least you’re being talked about. Like the time Kate Moss, embroiled in a tabloid drug scandal many believed would kill her career, savvily weathered a media storm only to resurface commanding an even more eye-watering salary than before. Or when Borat’s poking fun at the alleged backwardness of Kazakhstan resulted in Hotels.com experiencing a 300 per cent uptick in its users’ interest in visiting the post-Soviet state.

The same mantra does not, however, apply to vests. Vests, those essentially inoffensive, hot-weather-ready alternatives to T-shirts, are still recovering from the critical PR blows they’ve been dealt in recent years: the juiced-up cast of Geordie Shore, and the dickhead in everyone’s gym who insists on wearing a string version despite the fact that his form – and his finances – would’ve been better off if he’d just gone topless.

But as egregious as these style crimes are, it’s important to remember that vests aren’t the criminals. They’re merely the weapons. And like any weapon, a vest must be used wisely, with the proper knowledge of exactly when, and how, it should be deployed.

Like when it’s hot AF and you’re not at work. It’s the perfect time to wear a vest because a) it’s sleeveless, and therefore lets your pits breathe in a way that a stink-ripening T-shirt doesn’t, and b) you’re not at work and can get away with it.

Vests are also good for when you want to show off, whether it’s a freshly inked sleeve or a pair of hard-won delts that you’re giving some airtime. Provided your vest comes in a not-so-punchy colour and fits neither skin-tight nor potato sack-baggy, wearing one is not something you need be intrinsically ashamed of. Anyone that says otherwise is jealous, wants to be you (or be with you) or is a Victorian so nudity-allergic they can’t bear to see their girlfriend swimming in anything less than a burkini.