Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Graphic Tees

          College activities coordinators are manipulative little bitches. Every morning during my undergraduate career, I would wake up to a poorly arranged and badly written campus announcement email that tried to entice me to come to root beer floats in the quad/walk-a-thon for chinchillas' rights/pre-season kick-off to the countdown to March Madness. These messages hoped to take advantage of my pre-caffeine reasoning skills, thinking I'd sleepily add the event to my Google calendar, or at least half-heartedly scribble a reminder on my shaky hand. Nine times out of ten, I'd drag them straight to my trash folder, considering my Say Yes to the Dress marathon the only thing worthy of my Wednesday night. Unfortunately, the coordinators weren't easily dismissed. Emails would continue to flood my inbox at seventeen minute intervals, paper reminders would pour out of my post office box, and obnoxiously colored posters would hang precariously over stairwells, screaming at me in 64-point Comic Sans. Soon my own mind started working for the dark side, subliminally slipping the event in between my daydreams: "You know what would be better than catching up on all of that sleep you've missed while working on your Senior Seminar? A belly dancing lesson." I'd end up fleeing to my room, blast mind-numbing techno pop, and burn some strong incense, anything to get my brain to stop obsessing. Then, a knock on my door. It's my housemate demanding that I shake off my funk and come to the discussion on possible life on Neptune because they're giving away free tee shirts.
          See? Such a bitch move. These big wigs know that no college kid with a sound mind would pass up a free tee shirt. Not only does it give a broke kid a reason to put off shelling out quarters for laundry for at least one more day (two if you're seeing different people each day and don't get Taco Night all over yourself), it's also proof that you participated. You were a part if something that other people were a part of, you were a member of a community, a part of the scene. It doesn't matter that in three weeks, you'll probably forget who was hypnotized or what big cat is facing endangerment; college students are focused on the moment. They carpe the shit out of that diem. 
          The problem soon becomes sartorial. Your laundry basket is overflowing with Soffee, Hanes, and Alternative Apparel, all of them some sad shade of white, cream, or gray. Outfits that were once only deemed workout appropriate are now A Look. Soon, you're constantly donning a ponytail, eating frozen pizza nightly, and thinking this season's Saturday Night Live is actually funny (sorry, that was rude... frozen pizza is pretty damn delicious). I speak from experience. I had some majorly rough moments, especially in my junior year and the more depressed I became, the more I resorted to the graphic tee. It got so bad that one morning I told my housemate Carrie to ask me if I was still wearing the shirt I slept in to class. 
          Because I was.
          Long story short, I rediscovered not only how to be happy but also my large collection of sundresses. I continued to watch my classmates drift through their days in jersey, advertising the 2009 crab feast where everyone came down with food poisoning. I wonder if they want to wear that, or if it's only out of ease? Does the shirt make them feel good, is it a true representation of who they are stylistically? Do they care, and if not, why? I know it sounds kind of loony, me worrying about people based on their casual wear but clothes are much more than just clothes. You can't participate in most things without being clothed (unless indecent exposure is your jam). Clothing is necessary and if you have to do something, why wouldn't you have a little fun with it? 
          Enough philosophy, back to the shirts. Even though I mostly limited my tee shirt wearing to yoga class, I still managed to come home with four suitcases full of graphic gear. And there they still sit, six months after graduation, folded neatly in my Samsonites. With a possible change in location on my horizon, I decided now is the perfect time to let some of them go the way of the Goodwill. The clotheshorse in me weeps, feeling nostalgia in their fibers but the true fashionista knows when to edit her wardrobe. Here are a few tips I used to scale down my collection:

1.) Only keep what really, really means something to you. 
      For me, this included band tees, concert tees, yoga tanks, shirts I made myself, and anything with really killer artwork. These are the aspects of my life I want people to know about. I can't leave a show without buying a tee shirt, it's a medical condition or something. Usually the design on these are pretty wicked, and they're always good conversation starters: "You were at the Hall & Oates revival tour?? So was I! Let's be best friends!" Yoga's become a major part of my life, and you can't just dump a major part of your life in a roadside bin. Figure out what's important to your life, explains who you are, and keep those tops. Just don't fall into the everything-has-affected-me-in-some-major-way-and-therefor-I-am-keeping-it-all hole. You really don't need that DARE shirt from eleventh grade to remind you not to do drugs.

2.) Only keep what flatters your body.
     Mass-produced tees come in massively misunderstood sizing. Normally, everything is a men's cut, which will look boxy on a petite girl. If this is the case, either pitch it or find a way to make it work for your body. An oversized shirt from that remarkable MOMA show could look awesome with liquid leggings. Pair a baby tee with a maxi skirt at your waist to take it from pre-teen to pretty. If you can't find a way to manipulate it for your form, have no fear. You could always...

3.) DIY, if necessary.
     Some of you might not be able to take the plunge and fully relieve yourself of your tee shirts. I understand, really. However, that doesn't mean that you have to wear them either. Make a blanket, or some pillows, or really hip pulled necklaces. There's a reason Pinterest exists, my dear bucks and does. Type in "tee shirt DIY", break out the scissors, pop in a romantic comedy, and settle in for a most excellent crafternoon.

4.) Reward yourself for your donation.
     Tell yourself that for every ten/twenty/fifty tee shirts you give away, you will reward yourself with one epic new piece for your wardrobe. Just make sure it's not another damn graphic tee.

5.) Know that just having the memories and stories is okay.
     I heard a really great quote the other day about how in today's world that's always plugged into some social network or other, people are more worried about how things look when they should be concerned about how things feel. If and when you go to these events, try and take in all the experience has to offer. Talk to other people there, really listen to the speaker, laugh at the comedian, relish in the fact that you get to be here, in the moment with others. The feeling of community will give you more satisfaction than any shirt ever could.

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