The Tee to Immortality, or Why You Can't Throw Out Your T-shirtsT-shirts are the lazy man's scrapbook. That must be the reason they're so hard to throw out. Go into your bedroom, open your drawer and be honest with yourself: How many of those tees are you really going to wear again? How many are you really going to fit into again? Yet when your roommate, spouse or mom asks: "When are you finally going to get rid of that ridiculous mound of shirts?'' The answer is usually: "This weekend!'' The reality is usually: "When I'm dead! (And could you please bury me in the Stones' Steel Wheels Tour shirt from 1990?)'' Humble, trite and tacky though they may be, T-shirts are almost impossible to part with. "I really am uncertain why I love T-shirts so much,'' admitted Jason Tirotta, a communications guy at Case Western Reserve University. "I think of myself as very fashion-conscious. But after work or on the weekends, I just love to throw on a tee.'' Part of the reason is simple comfort, of course, and part of the reason is economy: Shirts just seem to materialize, like mildew. They come free with registration for the race, the dance, the school, the reunion, the conference. Or maybe — let's say for the sake of argument — you actually buy one. Either way, the shirt ends up helping you remember a trip or a triumph — something. And it is that connection to a particular time, place and event that makes it so powerful. "It's like a trophy,'' said Gail Sideman, who counts a "gazillion'' shirts in her collection. Shirts remind you of who you've been.
"I attended a wing festival in Buffalo with my 14-year-old son, and he was given a 'Too Hot To Handle' T-shirt for eating the spiciest wings offered by one vendor,'' said New Yorker Drew Neisser. "The T-shirt was made of cheap cotton and had a big logo of the pizza joint with their address. He wears it all the time.'' Sure. He's proud! "Each T-shirt represents a period of your life or a different experience,'' says Megan Nicolay, author of "Generation T: 108 Ways To Transform a T-shirt.'' Her book shows how to turn old T-shirts into leg warmers, quilts, even a wedding dress. It's in its eighth printing because here, at last, is a way to scrapbook without actually, uh, scrapbooking. "One of the designs is a 'Road Trip Skirt,''' says Nicolay. "You take all these tees you gathered during a road trip and sew them together in vertical panels, so the next time you go out you can say, 'This is from when I went to California, this is from that crazy weekend in New York City …'' A T-shirt starts conversations — that has always been one of its biggest jobs — and the more comments it elicits, the more it gets worn. Nicolay's favorite shirt just says "Magic'' on the front and "13'' on the back. "It's obviously a sports team's jersey made with iron-on letters, but I've been walking down the street, and people will start singing 'Do You Believe in Magic?'" I know I sure do. I have to. I've seen cheap cotton/polyester blends take on lives of their own. Lenore Skenazy is a columnist at The New York Sun and Advertising Age. To find out more about Lenore Skenazy (lskenazy@yahoo.com) and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com. COPYRIGHT 2007 CREATORS SYNDICATE INC.
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