Vero Moda

I see the Vero Moda label crop up in very unexpected places. Considering the brand is relatively anodyne — awash with plain, inoffensive knee-​length dresses, black tank tops and trenchcoats, I am always flabagasted to see it in and amongst what I would deem much more idioysyncrtaic labels such as St. Martins, Fever, Orion and Numph on clothes racks within these expensive boutique shops such as Bow and The Loft inside Powerscourt Townhouse.
To me, it beggars belief how such an insipid brand can be considered anywhere as near characteristic as St. Martins for example which oozes distinctiveness and a creative edge unseen anywhere else.
The Vero Moda shop therefore, that which accommodates all of their trade name under one roof has never made an impact on me. On the very few occasions I have been inside I have left incredibly soon after for a very straightforward reason — I was bored by what I saw.
All I see are an unwarranted amount of black tops and lackluster short dresses. I am not usually uncompromising when it comes to the colour black nor simplistic clothing — I’m not a snob for sophistication or anything like that, if anything I admire the way something as one-​dimensional as black and tank-​tops (for example, when relating the issue to a style of clothing) remain relevant, timeless even, despite their aesthetic humdrumness people still always want them, yet I still find their mass appearance here as something that is mind-​numbing and ultimately uninspiring. It would be different if Vero Moda shaped or ‘cut’ (in the fashionista sense of the word) the simplistic clothes in a particularly stylistic way creating a really well turned-​out, razor-​sharp looking little black dress or cool aerodynamic-​looking unadorned cocktail dress but they produce nothing of the sort.