A history in shirts

No visit home is complete without at least six hours of manual labor. I performed that this weekend, helping my dad sort through ten thousand boxes of junk in the attic. Well, he and my sister did a lot of the lifting. I did a lot of the looking through contents and reminiscing.

I remember this rock. I used to LOVE this rock. Must keep it.

I suffer from a disease that has been genetically passed through the generations of my dad’s family. It’s called packratitis. It’s a disease similar to the common cold. Only instead of a stuffed up nose, you have a stuffed up attic. And instead of having a sore throat, you keep all the shit from the childhood that you don’t need.

While I recognize that my future children, and my children’s children would be SO much happier if I started throwing out all the boxes now. I can’t say that I don’t derive pleasure from going through the dusty items from my past. Like an archeologist unearthing the remains of an ancient society, I carefully unfolded each historic garment. Each one flooding me with an emotion somewhere between joyous memories and lingering embarrassment for my former self.

At the risk of social suicide, I’ve created a photo essay with this weekend’s findings. I call it: “A history in shirts.”

Exhibit A: “The wonders of splatter-dash”
An art form created by dipping brushes in paint and hurling them towards the fabric, without actually touching the shirt. The result: a crop-top that could possibly cause seizures in small children and animals. Wear with caution.



Exhibit B: Florescent tie-dye
Everyone loves florescent colors, and everyone loves tie-dye. Why not combine the two? Who wouldn’t want to wear a shirt that looks like Rainbow Bright vomited on the tilt-a-whirl.



Exhibit C: Tie-dye with Dolphin
My only excuse for this shirt was that I am from Berkeley, and in a place like Berkeley, tie-dye, while perhaps no longer in style, is always readily available. Did I need to get it complete with all its water-mammaled glory? Probably not.



Not only did I own every one of these shirts? I loved every one of these shirts. And I wore them. Repeatedly. Shockingly, I managed to make it through grade school, with friends, and not get shot. I know many styles repeat, fads come back, retro is cool. However, you can be assured that these shirts were removed from the attic and immediately disposed of. No one will ever be forced to see the florescent tie-dye again.