Some Like It Pop: Everyone Loves A Conformist Girl

Here’s an existential crisis that Sartre should have been writing about: If my T-shirts are “me,” and my T-shirts are owned by everyone, then does that mean I am like everyone, and thus that I am nothing as an individual? In recent weeks, fashionistas the world over have had to contend with this identity-shattering dilemma.

During the semi-controversy surrounding the Women’s & Girls Foundation of Southwest Pennsylvania’s recent “girl-cott” of certain Abercrombie & Fitch T-shirts, the sentiment heard at Harvard was less of moral outrage and more of ridicule—mocking the stupidity of wearing such shirts in the first place.

But as students outside the Science Center grab up tees with the latest version of “Yale Sucks” it is clear that T-shirts with a statement are not just a teenybopper trend. Now, more than ever, people are wearing their opinions on their sleeve, rather than taking the time to speak them.

As a shirts-with-cute-sayings aficionado—I possess a vast repertoire of “Everyone Loves A [insert regional, religious, or ethnic trait here] Girl” tops—I often feel the need to defend my fashion choices.

Unlike the well-endowed preteens trying to fast forward the aging/mating process with a nice “Who needs brains when you have these?” shirt, I tend to pick phrases that speak to me, something that I’m sure I could have come up with if I had just a little more time to sit and contemplate. As part of this style, the piece de resistance of my collection is an Urban Outfitters shirt which reads “G is for Gangsta.” I’m not ashamed of the irony—this pig-tailed, rosy-cheeked girl would much rather get rich than die tryin’.

A few months ago, I faced the hardest of all T-shirt statement tasks—what do you wear to a concert, as you straddle the line between looking like a tool with the band’s tee on and looking like a nerd in bland everyday clothing. Attending an Oasis/Jet concert, I thought I would make the ultimate ironic move with my “Gangsta” top. Smiling to myself on how clever I was as I walked through the crowd, I suddenly passed a girl wearing the exact same shirt. My brilliant social commentary was mere duplication.

Herein lies the problem of the “Attitude” tee (which is how Abercrombie.com categorizes its selection of talkback apparel—need to make clear to the teenies that they are fighting the man with each new phrase). I, like the other undergrads, thought I was better than the boppers, trying hard to fit in with their fashion purchases.

But just like a great Harvard/Yale tee is passing off the ingenuity of one student group as the brilliance of your own Harvard-bred insults, my own attempts at creativity are only hopes that the Harvard population is not shopping, or shopping as carefully, at the stores I frequent.

But I’m still prepared to defend the evil empire of Abercrombie. Or at least its decision to print shirts that read “Do I make you look fat?” Though not in the best taste, such items are unlikely to actually create instant image problems among viewers.

In terms of T-shirt acceptance, the cultural elite among us, as well as the rather easily offended in Pennsylvania, could benefit from a few lessons. The Golden Rule? “Hate the T-shirt wearer, not the T-shirt.”

The most obnoxious of phrases can be worn in a humorous way; it is the person inside the shirt who makes the statement annoying. On my wish list is a Gawker.com T-shirt which reads, “Yes, I am quietly judging you,” which can either be the most brilliant, or the most brilliantly objectionable, way to present yourself based on past behavior.

We might also want to consider when exactly society lost its sense of humor. If I want to someday dress my small child in a shirt that declares, “I am not a drug mule,” or “Yeah, I was in the shit,” (which are actual baby-sized T-shirts for purchase on glarkware.com) I would hope people won’t hunt me down for using my offspring for amusement or for endorsing slightly more delicate slogans.

As for the mass-produced-identity fear, it’s time we trusted our own wits and started to make truly personalized T-shirts—well not in the stitching it together sense, but more like “order it with what you want it to say” sense or the cheaper “make an iron-on” sense. I know one of my favorite shirts I came up with all on my own, as it pronounces in large letters, “Curiouser and Curiouser.” Yes, Lewis Carroll stole that one from me.

When College students make that crucial decision of which anti-Yale sentiment best reflects them—the apathy of “Whatev,” the homestar.com-loving of “Burninatin’,” the CSI-style flair of being “Shot”—they will join the world, if they haven’t already, of letting our clothes do our work for us. While identity concerns abound, there is untapped potential for not only expressing actual opinions but delighting in the ironic custom of wearing shirts unlike ourselves.

If first impressions are everything, and we may not always get a chance to inform people what we are thinking each day, I’d like to think these words will make me beloved, or if not, at least make sure that the only people who approach me are my type of people. So if you want to say hi, just look for the girl wearing apparel that asks “Have you hugged my T-shirt today?”

—Staff writer Margaret M. Rossman can be reached at rossman@fas.harvard.edu.