It’s amazing how the simple white t-shirt is such a blank canvas. Add a logo, or a slogan and it transforms into a statement piece, in either a fashion sense or with a message that can range from humorous to political, to subliminal. In her light-hearted book, How to Win X-factor, author Keeley Bolger advises contestants to have family members in the audience to wear t-shirts spelling out the name of their relative. She says ‘Get them to wear T-shirts printed with your picture and a pun on your name – or even ask each of them to wear a different initial from your name on their t-shirt, so that during your song, the camera can pan past them.’ Marvellous. Must’ve worked for Joe then.
Cotton Blog
t-shirts, fashion, stuff...
Archive for December 2009
I’m still so loving Paris’s t-shirt from yesterday that I decided to create my own. As a little homage to la Hilton’s retro-trendy style, I’ve duplicated the heart, although my text is much more ambiguous. I love Paris could be the city or the sycophancy, and I’ve stayed with the fitted shape, which goes nicely with those skinny jeans so loved by the jet-setting crowd. I can’t help feeling sorry for Paris though. Her name sounds like a business trip, doesn’t it. City, hotel. I wonder how we’d react if the next multimillionaire heiress appeared bearing the name London Ritz, or Beijing Travel Lodge. Mmmmmm! That has quite a ring about it.
This is a really rather cute little number on airhead heiress Paris Hilton. A big bold 80′s style t-shirt with the big heart and wham-esque typography, but a quirky message as well. This is a nice twist on the retro t-shirt. The fitted shape is so much more flattering than the baggy 80′s version, that would never have really worked with that bag, darling! Paris is mistress of irony; whilst she sends herself up and pronounces herself vacuous, she’s quite niftily pocketing the squillions that she makes from brand Hilton.
An interesting look here at how a baby’s future might plan out with the marvellous Mysterio T-shirts. Pop one over the child’s head and it will display the decision of the great and wonderful, not to mention completely bonkers Mysterio. These t-shirts come in a sealed fabric bag, with boy or girl options, and a truly bizarre range of careers picked out for the professionals of tomorrow. This makes a fab gift for all aspirational parents; wouldn’t it be fascinating to see how they react to the thought of their minute prodigy becoming a monkey wrangler, a plastic surgeon, a romantic novelist or a game show host. The most interesting thing is that you don’t know what you’re going to get, which makes it rather fun for both the giver and the receiver. Not something one tends to say very often.
Here’s another of those must-have gifts. This so appeals to the sex god who really, but really loves himself. More keen man than Mankini, this will show off all those unsightly bits that t-shirts were invented to hide! Although you can guarantee that whoever you give this to will have to try it on. But how far would you go…the boss? The father-in-law, the bank manager? The more inappropriate the recipient, the greater the reaction. Just don’t go giving it to someone who truly looks on it as a fashion item. You will never be the same again after actually seeing someone wearing it.
Oh how I dread the onslaught of Christmas. I have been searching all over for meaningful, thoughtful yet overridingly cheap little presents. Most of the people I know, however, wouldn’t recognise meaningful if it came up and hit them in the face with a wet kipper. So, for a small statement gift, I’ve found these indispensable yet utterly revolting plasters. There’s just something about them that makes you want to give them to a vegetarian, with some kind of message stating that when the wound heals it the plaster will drop off like a pork scratching. Ew.
If you were wondering where on earth Cheryl Cole’s hair extensions had gone, then look no further. Top headline yesterday that Olly Murs, one of the finalists was having a fake tan spray to be ready for this weeks extravaganza, showed an flash of chest hair almost identical to Chezza’s lopped off locks. Those stylists are just soooo ingenious, a snip snip here, and bung it on there, no one would ever know. Were it not for my eagle eye, scanning the most important stories of the day, the matter would remain under wraps for ever. I wonder if Cheryl will notice and want her hair back? It sounds painful.
I’m all for inanimate objects making their own personal statements. The forerunner and best known of the lot must surely be Anya Hindmarch’s ‘I am not a plastic bag’ which became so popular they sold for several squillion on ebay. This doormat is just the little guy in comparison. Much, much more downtrodden, and with serious self esteem issues to boot. I’m not sure whether to buy one and hang it up on the wall, giving it a well-needed push up the totem pole of life, or if I should just keep it for those bad days, when I can stomp over it and snarl at it’s determined message ’oh yes you are’.
I’ve just been reading in the Telegraph that Simon Cowell could be solely culpable for killing off that greatly loved (Hmmm…remember East 17?) tradition of the Christmas Number One single. Apparently, bookmakers William Hill are so fed up with the top slot being hogged by all the X Factor winners over the past few years, they aren’t going to bother any more. This just makes me want to have a tabloid style slogan like ‘Cowell kills Christmas’ emblazoned across my chest. But I’m just going to settle for ‘The E-Xmas Factor’. Or how about ‘eXit Xmas’? Oh the possibilities are endless.
If I cast my mind back a very, very long way back, I can just about remember my first week at secondary school, although it really was a horribly long time ago. We were learning binary and I didn’t have a clue. Actually, I never progressed further than copying someone elses homework and breathed a sigh of relief when we moved on to something more straightforward.
Well, guess what…..I still don’t get it. When I saw this slogan on a t-shirt, I was thrown back to the agonizing years of my youth, binary still a terrible conundrum and I almost had a nervous breakdown trying to understand the meaning, let alone the humour. Please, please don’t make me wear this t-shirt. I will be staring at it so much, checking over and over again that I’m quite sure what it means, that I’ll probably fall over and scrape my knee. Just like at school.










