I don't like to buy clothes. If by some odd chance I actually do find something that I like, I am disgusted by the fact that it was
mass-produced and that countless others possess the exact same garment.
So I bought a package of print-your-own-iron-on paper, and a package of plain white Hanes men's V-neck t-shirts. My first creation was a picture of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles -- the original cartoon version that I'd fallen in love with as a child and never lost my affection for -- jacked from somewhere online, topped by the TMNT logo. Proud of my creation, but wondering how such a thing would go over within the snooty Baylor bubble, I wore it one day.
I have never had so many people talk to me in my life. One particular instance occurred as I hurried across campus from my place of employment to check my mail before heading home. Some guy I didn't even know, who was sitting with a group of people around the fountain, stood up on the cement wall and yelled for my attention. I had barely smiled and nodded and walked past when I heard another voice.
"Hey, I know that girl! She's really cool!" yelled a blonde young man -- Robert -- who had been in my astronomy class the previous semester and whom I had also seen at the initial meeting of the Literary Club. He was a theatre major... I'd seen him working at some of the plays.
Such a small thing, but it completely made my day. Until, of course, I actually got to my car with the intention of heading home... my car had sat with the inside lights on for a week, and the battery was beyond salvation. I got a v-shaped sunburn on my neck while waiting for my Aunt and Uncle to come to the rescue with a new battery.
The iron-on was of poor quality and has since become rather shredded, although still recognizable. I saw some Ninja Turtle shirts in a Hot Topic recently, too. It really pissed me off... I want no one else to infringe upon my fashion turf.
I still love that shirt, though. I wear it when I need to feel admired. I never considered it as being hit on, but it sure makes the guys yell.