I recently had the occasion to go shopping with my twelve year old son Jeremy who is now finishing grade seven in a Canadian public school. He had somehow (mysteriously) saved twenty dollars and was determined to buy a T-shirt. Coming from the boomer generation, T-shirts for me where either those funny Stanfield undergarments that my dad wore under his dress shirt (to absorb the sweat during hard work, I suppose?) or what gang members with duck-tails in the '50s wore under their leather jackets to look cool-like the 'Fonz' of Happy Days. During my college art school days, the days when you had to 'smoke' to find yourself in your art, the T-shirt changed into psychedelic colours as we flower children began to tie-dye them. They became a sign of protest against the plastic world, hand made and, of course, "authentic." From that point on, T-shirt culture seemed to have vanished from my consciousness. I was dimly aware that they were worn with all kinds of humorous sayings, or by runners who unwillingly wore all kinds of sponsor logos on the sleeves and backs of their ' free' T-shirts.
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