The Age of UNTUCKit

The Slob vs. Snob debate over wearing one’s shirttails flapping.
Illustration by Tom Bachtell

As New Yorkers stumble, marionettelike, through the middle passage of life, many keep a lookout for indications of their own increasing crankiness. They shudder at warning signs of the unfathomable new. To wit: in the past month, the number of UNTUCKit stores in Manhattan has gone from one to four.

Eager to understand the cultural significance of a shirt whose shortened, curved shirttails are meant to be worn untucked, a visitor stopped in at the UNTUCKit store on Prince Street. He told a young salesman that a friend had recommended the brand’s shirts, and added, “I wasn’t sure what the appropriate emotional response was. I mean, is that like saying ‘You look good in blue,’ or more like ‘You should wear dress shields’?” The salesman trilled, “Absolutely!,” which did not settle the matter.

Minutes later, the visitor, having tried on a light-blue UNTUCKit dress shirt, found himself gazing at his midsection in one of the store’s tall mirrors, while two salespeople looked on. He expressed his concern that the shirt made him look “five years younger, but ten pounds heavier.” He went on, “A headline on the UNTUCKit Web site reads ‘Compliment your holiday waistline.’ So I think we’re trafficking in flab-ouflage here, no?”

The chattier of the salespeople reassured him, “It’s just the look now.” The visitor wondered whether a shirt that’s designed to be worn untucked promotes the idea that a shirt is just a human-shaped napkin that can be thrown in the wash.

Chatty interjected, “All our shirts are machine-wash, drip-dry.”

Still harboring questions, the visitor went up to the chain’s Flatiron shop. “Were people tripping over their shirttails previously?” he asked a salesperson named Stephanie.

“It is what it is,” she replied.

Warming to the philosophical cast of the discussion, the visitor brought up the waist-level flounce that adorns some women’s clothing. Adopting an expression midpoint on the smile-grimace continuum, he asked, “Is UNTUCKit the male peplum?”

Stephanie weighed in with a quick no on the peplum question, pointing out that a button-down shirt emphasizes its wearer’s rectangularity, while a peplum renders a torso bell-shaped.

“You’re right,” the visitor conceded. “UNTUCKit is less male peplum and more gringo guayabera.”

The visitor finally found some clarity when he arrived at the UNTUCKit branch in the financial district, with the help of a calm, knowing saleswoman. The visitor told her, “I’m a longtime tucker-inner, so I’m not sure if I’m ready for this. I sometimes suck my stomach in when I’m around attractive young people.”

The saleswoman counselled, “I think you’re ready.”

“Part of my reluctance is that the name of your company rhymes with a popular expression,” the visitor confided. “A popular expression signalling a collapse of will.”

The saleswoman smiled. “But we’re not there yet,” she said. She stationed the visitor in a dressing room and brought him a variety of UNTUCKit shirts, including a forest-green flannel that looked striking when he tried it on. Even so, he told her that he needed time before spending ninety dollars on a garment that had been the source of so much introspection.

The next day, the visitor returned to the store, disappointed not to find the helpful saleswoman. Recounting his UNTUCKit peregrinations, the visitor told a new salesman, “I’ve had to deal with some uncomfortable truths.”

“Well, welcome back,” the salesman said.

At the checkout counter, the visitor pointed to his green-flannel purchase and asked what the little triangle of cloth stitched to the left front shirttail was. The clerk explained that it was the UNTUCKit logo. The visitor replied, “It reminds me of the toggle pull on an airplane life jacket.” Pull it, and it might save your life. But not before inflating your midsection to twice its normal size. ♦