Show Me Your Tee - Part 2
Let’s talk t-shirts now.
I have t-shirts on hangers in my closet, stacked on a shelf, piled in a drawer or storage box. I have t-shirts I haven’t worn for two or three years but will “someday.” Occasionally I get into a “time to get rid of stuff” mode. Some “stuff” is easy to clear out, but when I get to the shirts, I stop, unable to make a decision to pitch. Several minutes later I move on, leaving all the tees untouched.
Sometimes you just can’t mess with historical garments.
Here’s a weird thought: I just finished reading a biography of George Washington (by Joseph Ellis). Imagine if Washington and Hamilton and Madison and the rest of those founding fathers had worn tees. What would they have written on them? “Give me Liberty…or else.” That’s Patrick Henry’s. “No Kings.” That’s George’s. “Broadway Bound.” That’s Hemilton’s. Nixon: “I’m not a crook. Really.” Feel free to add your own historical tee.
You probably have tees you have great affection for. They carry a lot of history, of personal connections, of links to those good times. So the question is, what do you do with them? Wear them? Of course. Coffee cups and baseball caps are also sacred souvenirs of past enjoyments. But those don’t carry the same sort of bold statement about who you are, where you’ve been, who you saw, and who you still remember fondly.
Think for a minute. What’s the oldest t-shirt you currently own? Why do you still have it? What memory does it hold?
I’ve attached one of my tees I bet you’ve never seen before. It’s been in my closets for 40 years or more. In perfect shape. That graphic is the Mona Lisa. In neon. I got it at the Museum of Neon Art, in Los Angeles, on one of my many production trips when I worked at an ad agency. I like neon signs, and used to photograph them when I was traveling, walking the streets at night with my 35mm camera. MONA. Museum Of Neon Art. Clever and beautiful.
There’s another one from a place you probably never heard of. A glass-blowing studio in Louisville, Kentucky. Again, great design and color and impossible to get rid of. Here’s where I may lose your interest. I don’t have any tees from rock concerts. Well, maybe one. Keb’ Mo’. 2024. Topeka, Kansas. With Boz Skaggs. I wear this one a lot. I like jazz but never bought a shirt at a jazz concert, but I have one from a jazz club in Greenwich Village, NYC. Small’s.
Since I’m thoroughly enmeshed in the life and films of Charlie Chaplin, I have a slew of tees connected to him.
That’s about all I have to say about my t-shirts. Photos are attached.
I thought about including something about the history of t-shirts. I Googled it and asked ChatGPT for information. A wealth of information popped up, going back to the 1800’s, up through 1913 with the U.S. Navy, into the 50’s when Marlon Brando made it a fashion statement in “A Streetcar Named Desire.”
So where am I taking you? To salvation.
T-shirts may be just what we need these days. They could be the antidote to our digital, social media, texting, non-conversational existence. They are real. You can touch them, fold them, wash them, drop some spaghetti sauce on them. They can connect you in a very real way. It’s not difficult, really. Next time you see someone with an interesting tee, resist the temptation to ignore them. Go up to them, with a smile or at least a non-threatening look, and say something about their tee. Or ask a question.
Examples of establishing communication:
I like your shirt.
Where’d you get that shirt?
Did you ever see them “live”? (Indicating the band on their shirt)
Great movie. Did you like it?
Looks like you’ve been to (name of the place). Was it fun/interesting/dangerous/etc?
Do you do plumbing too? (A construction worker shirt)
Looks like you’re a grandfather. How many grandkids?
I love Goldens. How old is yours?
Were you there? (Woodstock, Carnegie Hall, Birdland, French Open, The Masters, World Series, the Super Bowl, Disneyland)
Get ready to make new friends, discover new worlds, step away from your cell phone into real life.
That pretty much finishes my screed on tee-shirts. I hope you continue to enjoy your collection, and that your memories will be rejuvenated whenever you see them and, especially, when you put one on.