The Tshirt Guy 2 - An awakening
On a hot summer day I was ambling along the streets of Harajuku in Tokyo when I decided I was in need of some clothes. The resulting binge was to colour my life as it lead me almost to the door of the Tshirt Guy. After a frenzied fifteen minutes I was with jeans, two shirts, a bag and an accidental copy of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Clothes Shopping for me is one of those tantric exercises where the event if preseded by months of thought and claminess. The event itself is carried out without human emotion and as quickly as possible. I know what I want. Either they have it, or they don't.I was shirted, bagged, jeaned and booked, but still sadly unTshirted. At this point I was unnaware of the mystical significance of the Tshirt. Even then, I had vague feelings about their role in the wardrobe.
After stumbling through a few record shops (I love vinyl, but alas my turntables are in another country) I dived into a small shop to escape the heat. The weedy looking clerk took a look at me as I walked in. I didn't see him, though. My eyes were fixed on the masterpiece above. In dark blue and of tight fit, it had thbe word "Curling" completely contained within a curling stone. Beneath this, it said "Let it slip" and almost too small to see "in the direction of the tee" A stunning summary of the very soul of curling. What fierce joy in the world of mop, kettle and fronzen bowling green. What hours of research, demography and youth-culture had been spent to create this, I wondered.
The clerk broke into my reverie, saying, "It was the Tshirt Guy."
"The what?" I said.
"One score and four years before..." he began. Thus was the lay of the Tshirt Guy revealed to me. When he had finished we both sweated in silence. I digested his words, the small room, the isolation, the rapute that only carefully proportioned Tshirt / wordy combinations could supply. I swore my life to his on that day.
"I'll take it."
"I thought you would. You have seen."
That night I was so emotional I accidentally paid ￥3,500 to get into a Jazz-bar.
posted by Between daisies @ 22:34
5 Comments:
I remember and still love that T-shirt of yours.
We didn't find the jazz club you so thoughtfully recommended. Judging by the price of the stock, that was a good thing.
I feel a bit like you described about shopping as well. I made the mistake of telling (not asking, mind you) my wife not to buy me clothes. Her idea of what looks good on me and my idea of shit I would never dare to be seen in are virtually one and the same.
I see kids as the answer to our dilemma.
This t-shirt guy sounds like a dangerous, evil mastermind. He is clearly attempting to control you through market research and winter sports.
Perhaps I should attack him with a forwad roll/torn shirt combination manouevre.
AK - yep, I have that issue too. I have a special pile for that kind of stuff. Why does it happen that way? Fucked if I know. The reverse is also true. I have never been able to get her to wair that PVC maids outfit.
CB - the torn shirt might upset him. Long time no see, BTW
I have. ;)
You've seen her in a PVC maids outfit?
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