Much Ado About T-Shirts

 

     For many years, I have been musing on this topic or that and meandering about searching for topics esoteric, obscure, and plain old banal.  You would think in all those years I would have already written about something as lame as t-shirts, perhaps even several times. 

While I have referenced undershorts in a few letters, the favorite of mine being Changes and Armenians Invented Clothes, I have not broached the subject of t-shirts.  Well that ends here, today.

Why t-shirts and why now?

The answer is simple:  Facebook.

Huh?

Yes, Facebook. 

I have been inundated with a flurry of ads in the past few weeks for t-shirts. 

It seems that there are some remarkable breakthroughs made regarding this humble yet important and, sometimes, fashionable part of our wardrobes.  Through the use of better sewing technology, new varieties cotton, better designs, and, certainly, the crazy advances in both polys and esters which we all know are multiplied tenfold when melded into the miracle of polyesterization.  It is mind-boggling.

Actually, I am not sure if any of this is remotely true.  Nevertheless, it has to be from what I am reading in all these t-shirt advertisements from companies I have never heard of.  They are all claiming that their revolutionary t-shirts are softer, fit better, last longer, shrink less if even at all, and give the wearer an amazing look and feel. 

They all claim their t-shirts are less boxy and, golly, aren’t we all tired of boxy old-fashioned t-shirts.  Silly me, I always thought form fitting was not flattering to my one-pack ab.  They go on to say that the design makes bigger guys look slimmer and slimmer guys more… bigger.  (Some of you no doubt are wondering if these shirts have the same kind of effect on the female.. um… pectorals.  There was no mention of this though I am certain their scientists are hard at work on this as I write these words.)

I am certain that some kind of magic technology is happening here.  This is like the thermos bottle, one of the great inventions of mankind, which keeps hot things hot and cold things cold.  Both the thermos bottles and this new breed of t-shirts do this with no microchips or wires of any kind.  This is crazy science.  In medieval times, scientists working on things like this would have been labelled witches or wizards and burned at the stake.

Other than making bigger guys look trimmer, and scrawny guys look more buff, the ads all imply that everyone buying and wearing them will feel better about themselves.  I imagine the t-shirts will grow hair on bald heads, make grey hair darker, and make your children do better in school. 

How much are these t-shirts running for?  The firm that seems to advertise the most offers a variety of multi-packs.  Their 3-pack has a list price of $62.97 but has been marked down to $43.99 ($14.66 a shirt) and even offers an option to buy with four interest free installments of $11.  Never thought about buying t-shirts on installment. 

Of course, I looked on Amazon.  Oh my, there are countless offers from names you have heard of like Hanes, Jockey, Gildan, Carhartt, and Champion to names you have never heard of like Uni Clau, Goodthreads, and Pegeno.  There is also the Amazon Essentials Brand that is shaking up the clothing business.  The prices range from $3.80 for a basic Hanes to $20+.  The materials range from 100% cotton to cotton/poly blends to all synthetic materials.  There is a dizzying array that is hard to choose if you are just browsing. 

These ads that I have seen on Facebook makes it easy to buy t-shirts, that are probably good shirts, while avoiding the dizzying array on Amazon.  One of the companies True Classics has adopted the charitable donation model pioneered by Tom’s Shoes and then Bombas Stockings. 

Until this barrage of t-shirt ads, t-shirts were pretty much a commodity, practically a throwaway item, in my view.  I classified them in two categories.  There are t-shirts that are, basically, undergarments.  Unlike the 1950s, this class of t-shirts are only worn under other shirts, sweaters, or sweatshirts these days.  They used to come in any color and material you wanted as long as it was white and cotton.  Then there is the class of t-shirt that is the only shirt worn.  The primary top t-shirts are varied in both color and color.  They could be cotton, polyester, or a cotton/polyester mix and come in henna color you might imagine.

This is much ado about t-shirts.  Other than perhaps buying some Amazon Essentials tees when I am next in need, I probably will not alter my t-shirt buying habits.  For t-shirts that are the only shirt worn, I seem to be biased to those with University of Michigan logos.

Chidem Inch: The 106th Anniversary

 

We Armenians commemorate again the anniversary of the start of the 1915 Armenian Genocide.  It was the day when the leaders and intellectuals of the Armenians were arrested mostly in Istanbul.  Some were later released, some disappeared forever.  On May 2, 1915,     several Armenian professors were arrested in Kharpert where three-quarters of my grandparents, and the same for my wife, hailed from.  Armenians lived there for at least ten centuries.

After the 100^th anniversary in 2015, I was not sure what commemorations would like after that grim milestone.  This year we are commemorating with as heavy hearts as we have had in my memory.  In these pandemic times, we experienced the horrible war in Artsakh that most of the rest of the world knows as Nogorno-Kharabakh.  In the gut wrenching month of October the Turkish supported Azeri’s took half of the Armenian territory that was liberated in 1990 with the fall of the Soviet Union.  Azerbaijan might not have prevailed if it were not for the Turkish support of drones, some also from Israel, air support, and mercenaries from Syria.  We later found out that Turkey supplied the command and control for entire operation.  Armenians hoped and expected Russia to step in and stop the madness.  Milirary assistance never came.  Russia stepped in only to force a treaty on the Armenians that greatly favored the Azeris.

It was a crushing military defeat.  It has been crushing spiritually as well for Armenians around the world.  I have been numb since that day in November when the treaty was signed.  I blogged about it:

• Chidem Inch: War in Artsakh
• Chidem Inch: Really? Israel?
• Chidem Inch: Oh, It’s About Occupied Lands…
• Chidem Inch: Tears for Artsakh
• Çidem İnç: Şun Şan Orti Erdoğan

I have not written about it since.  I was empty.  I was numb.

When watching the inauguration of President Biden, I was inspired by the moving poem written and recited by Amanda Gorman.  I decided to write a poem to express, what I wasn’t sure.  I slowly began to write.  Some days it was easy and the words flowed.  Other days the stream of consciousness was a trickle or even dry.

The past few days, I realized that I should try to finish it for April 24.  I spent last evening editing it.  As I read the final product, I was struck with two thoughts.  First, it was cathartic.  I can now read analyses of the war and prognostications about the future of the Armenia and Artsakh.  I literally could not before.  Secondly, I was unsure if the poem was any good.  Most other poems I write, I feel good about judging them relative my body of work.  But this was written on raw emotion, it was written for that catharsis I knew I needed.  My suspicions was that it might be too emotional.

I debated about submitting it to the Armenian Weekly and finally decided to.  I actually gave the editors, Pauline Getsoian and Leeza Arakelian, the “don’t worry about offending me if you decide not to publish it” caveat.  They were graciously affirmative and I am pleased to share the link with you here:  An Armenian Lament.

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Also, please check out the following:

• Ara Topouzian’s excellent annual reflection:  The Genocide defines who I am as an Armenian.
• Ani Hovannisian’s touching and powerful film:  The Hidden Map

Switcheroo?

 

Back in the early 2000’s, while living in Connecticut, I came home on a nice fall Friday evening after a high school football game.  My daughter was with me.  I parked my car in the garage.  We walked out of the garage, which was not connected to the house, and through the breezeway to the back door of the house.  I had my keys in hand, but instead of using the house key, I hit the unlock on my car fob remote and grabbed the door knob to open the door.   Needless to say, the door remained locked.  My daughter noticed what I was errantly trying to do burst out laughing at my folly.

In my early twenties, I left for a weekend getaway.  When I got home, my sister was staring me down.  I eloquently inquired, “What?”  She said, “Why did you take my toothbrush?”  My three sisters and I shared a bathroom and our toothbrushes were hung on the same cup holder rack attached to the wall.  “I took the toothbrush I have been using all along.”  My sister, didn’t say a word, thought, and then cried out “Ew!!  Gross!!” when it dawned on her we were using the same toothbrush for at least six months.  It was generally assumed, no doubt due to precedence, that it was my error, not hers.

This is but a sample of the silly slip-ups and inadvertent switcheroos that have made me shake my head, laugh, cringe in embarrassment, and, depending on the gravity of the context, become downright upset with myself.

Of course, these kind of things do not exclusively happen to me, they happen to everyone. 

I remember being at an Armenian youth competition where my Dad was running the track and field events.  He conscripted me to be one of the timers for the track events.   Dad told another volunteer that he should start passing out the medals to the events already completed.  The fellow agreed and went to his car to retrieve the box of medals.  He returned, plopped the box on the officials table, opened the box, and moaned, “Oh no, I took the wrong box.”  The box he had was full of spray paint cans.  I knew the cardboard box of medals was on a shelf in his garage right next to where the cardboard box of paints was sitting.

This is stuff of comedy as well.   The Three Stooges employ often employ the errant switch effectively in their slapstick mayhem.  The boys were painting a table and Moe had a cup of coffee.  After several strokes of his paintbrush and several sips of coffee, he dipped his brush in the coffee and took a sip from the paint can.  In another short, a southern belle inadvertently used potholder as the middle layer of a three deck cake.   The cake was iced and served resulting in everyone coughing up potholder stuffing.

We have all used a permanent marker on a white board, as I have.  After doing it a few times, we all learn to check. 

I have never grabbed a screwdriver instead of a pen.  If I did, I am fairly certain I wouldn’t try to write with it.  Likewise, I have never mistakenly picked up a jackhammer instead of an awl when I wanted to make another hole in a belt.  Luckily, I don’t even have a jackhammer and if I did, I would probably have caught my error before I figured out how to turn it on.

My switcheroo errors and musings are, basically, the fodder for comedy.

Mistaking a 9mm handgun for a Taser, discharging the weapon, and killing a person is tragic and unfathomable.