Miscelaney

I’ve always had a love-affair with t-shirts. Whether it’s the Californian in me, or the innate marketeer (or both), I adore the timeless, casual, wearable canvass which selflessly offers a no-less-than-perfect opportunity to share with the rest of the world exactly what is on my mind. Different colors, shapes, sizes and fit–and different messages. A favorite band, sports team, TV show, cause, saying, photo, you name it, the unassuming cotton platform is yours for the taking.

Perhaps it was the old school, at-home “iron-ons”, or the first time I went in and custom-made a matching tee with my high school BFF (cringe), I’ve been obsessed ever since. Not only does a t-shirt provide vital (yet casual and comfy) coverage for your bod, along with a personal messaging billboard, it also affords a wearable snapshot into the past and serves as a sort of  personal, “mobile” historian (rock concert at the Hollywood Bowl in ’91, solstice festival of ’03, first-and last-all family reunion on the beach in 2000). Every time you pull it out of your drawer and see the familiar logo of the brewfest you hit last spring with old friends, you have the opportunity to re-live that happy moment in time, if even just for a nostalgic blink.

But I’m stating the obvious. America loves t-shirts (and we’re not alone). It’s big business and the demand is high, so the prices can be, too. A few years ago I was shopping in a boutique in Yaletown (Vancouver’s mini “SOHO” district), and I stumbled upon the holy grail of t-shirts, at least in my opinion. It was a baby-blue ‘beater with the words “I do bad things“. Love at first sight. It was customized with those crushed velvety, iron-on, puffy-round-block letters I used to iron-on my tee’s when I was young. I think they were charging upwards of $50 for this particular tee. GTFO! I felt it was highway robbery, so on principal, didn’t buy it (besides, that was lunch money necessary for an overpriced meal across the alley). Plus I, personally, could do this. I mean really (you’ll learn I get indignant and develop a false sense of self-competency when I see other people living my dream).

I still think of that shirt. Obviously. So fast forward to right now, with time on my hands (ahem), I  decided to put my ironing skills where my mouth is and make my own, customized tees. A trip to Michael’s for the iron-ons, a trip to Marshall’s for some high quality, yet low-priced tee’s, an ironing board, an iron, and the patience to read some directions. And voila. I’ve made my own t-shirts. With my own messages (and you can bet I have a lot of them, I’ve spent years coming up with them). And on the cheap (each shirt is less than $10). My options are more limited than say Cafe Press, or a high-tech brick-and-mortar custom tee business, but for now, it’s all I need to feel a sense of accomplishment and share a few thoughts, via my chest, with the world.