Sensing Fashion to a TeePosted: May 22, 2016
I don’t wear tshirts. Okay, I take that back; I have one tee, it’s an ugly brown and has a tiny useless pocket on the left breast and the deep v shows my sports bra.
But I don’t wear shirts logoed within an inch of their life. I don’t advertise brand names or support my favorite teams or express cleverly snide sentiments. Not that I can’t appreciate these things; a guy just walked past me in a baby pink shirt with a screen printed pink-frosted yellow donut, and I smiled and nodded at him. You can’t argue a bold donut shirt.
I would love to be the average boringly-dressed person in a tee, jeans, and sneakers, but I can’t. See, I have to be wearing something uniquely me at all times, because the outfit you die in is your ghost outfit forever. Everybody knows that.
I feel bad for all these TapouT douche bags. Mildly bad. A smidgen. Not really much at all, but the sentence flowed in the narrative, so what could I do?
When I was at a summer program at NSU in Natchitoches I was known for my tees featuring Socks the cat–the Clintons’ cat when they were in the White House.
And later in high school I wore the traditional grunge wear: band tees under flannel button ups. I had the GNR The Spaghetti Incident? shirt that everyone said looked like worms. And now that I know how much it goes for on eBay, in hindsight I should have kept it.
I think I forgo tshirts now because I’m judged enough on my physical appearance. I don’t need to provide another avenue for the public’s disgust.
That and you can’t show your shape in a tshirt. They’re boxy and cover up more than most things I wear. It’s hot in Louisiana, and clothes only make that worse.
But I’m pretty sure I’d wear a shirt with a radish on it.