After three years of mediocre costumes (last year I panicked, threw on jeans and flannel and told everyone I was a lumberjack), I was determined that this year I was going to do Halloween right. I was sure I had things locked when I stumbled upon a puffy orange vest in a pile of thrift shop clothes. “Perfect!” I thought. “Pair it with a jean jacket, Walkman, and cardboard hoverboard and I can impress everyone with my rendition of Marty McFly, time traveler extraordinaire.”

Undaunted by cries of “who?” from my roommates, I assembled the proper components. But when I found myself in front of the mirror, I was disappointed with the final effect. The vest was a problem. On my lean, aerodynamically ideal body, it fattened up my core and accentuated my thin arms. I looked like the lovechild of the Great Pumpkin and a T-Rex.

While I’m open to the idea that this might have just been a particularly ugly vest, something tells me that the problem is pervasive throughout this particular subgenre of outerwear. I mean, does anyone really benefit from wrapping their core in excessive amounts of protective material? Police officers and the US Army don’t count. The truth is that vests are just fundamentally unflattering, and the time-traveling Delorean was just so cool that I had never realized it. (Building one to salvage the costume seemed like too big of a DIY project for midterm season).

With a heavy heart, I decided to retire the costume and liquor treat as a greaser instead (leather jacket and white t-shirt). I’ve resigned myself to never being able to pull off the vest “look.” It’s not that big of a deal, I am strangely unaffected by the freezing core, sweltering arms problem from which a large proportion of the student body seems to suffer. Besides, clothes with sleeves are just better. Anyone who says differently clearly has a vested interest.