Bagster (OversiZed Jumpers) – London

That oversized jumper in your wardrobe usually denotes a crime; a crime where your barrel-bellied dad or brawny big brother borrowed it without asking. Now stretched and ruined, it hangs solemnly like a badly butchered carcass – a fitting metaphor for your dysfunctional family life. If only you could communicate.

But this age-old gripe is now a blessing. Trawling bitterly through their Facebook accounts to locate some incriminating digital evidence will soon be unnecessary, as 2018 promises to be the year of the oversized garment: The Bagster.

Unknowingly, your thieving family members have upscaled your clothes. That drab run-of-the-mill V-neck got inadvertently promoted to primo item – soon to be proudly worn on the streets, cooed over by fashionistas and envied by style minions in their sharp-fitting and deeply uncool pullovers.

As an early adopter of the Bagster, you’ll be perceived as that finger-on-the-pulse trendsetter, unbeknownst to everyone that your street-smarts were actually cultivated by your ham-fisted, fat necked brother, who clumsily refashioned your wardrobe during breakdancing fails, GTA all-dayers and wank marathons.

The Bagster has been swelling out of the underground this year, with designers like Raf Simons, Public School, Michael Kors, Stella McCartney and Original Fake leading the movement.

We can only speculate on the methodology of their tailoring, but have a pretty clear scenario in our minds: Contrary to the fastidious accuracy of normal clothes manufacturing, the Bagster requires a more cavalier approach. The seamstress is encouraged to consume strong ale before work and recreational drugs lay enticingly around the workshop. The ensuing atmosphere is perfectly adapted for the production of incongruently stitched garments. Nonchalance in the air, hands unsteady, bodily convulsions, measurements awry – precisely the desired effect!

A new dawn of professionalism arises: Unprofessionalism. It’s the new keyword on the lips of cutting edge fashion houses and search engine algorithms.

It’d be career suicide for a tailor attending an interview to arrive promptly, well dressed and with an answer to everything. They’d be better off rolling in two hours late, half-cut, stinking of amyl nitrate, with their portfolio tattooed on random body parts.

In the world of Bagster design, a bad seamstress is a good seamstress.