To a t, or shirting the issue.

It's Saturday and it's laundry time. There is no set day that I do this task, there is no rhyme or reason to how I do any of the mundane tasks required of all of us. The basket was full and the floor catching excess. Trot down to the room with my loads and over stuff the machines. Half and hour later, begin the drying process. Forty five minutes later reclaim my bounty/booty and fold to the magical sounds of FoodTV. My techniques for folding are all my own. A cross of choreography similar to Judo and influenced by the Gap. Wrinkles aren't an issue as space is usually. I don't own and iron and probably should as I am thirtysomething. I don't care much. The folding ensued and the end product was startling. There were over twenty t-shirts. Nigh upon thirtysomething (there's that word again). How many t-shirts are too many?

"Why do I have so many t-shirts?" began my thought process. Do I change clothes this frequently during the week? Am I this impulsive? Where did they all come from? I began to analyze the contents of the equation. Some t-shirts were mementos in a souvenir fashion; some vacation spot visited or visited for me. Some t-shirts were just for humor, whether risque or not. There were t-shirts to look nice in, a fashion souvenir if you will. Some were hallmarks to moments in my life that could evoke great memories. Certain were for 'Fat Days' and others were for 'Feeling Skinny Days'. Some were just old, and their purpose forgotten but the nostalgia was great enough to prevent their being thrown away. Some were just old, and their purpose forgotten, but the fabric was so soft and perfectly broken in to prevent their being thrown away. The great majority had very little practical impact on my day to day wearings but there they were. How did this happen? (photo credit; emiliewood.com)

I polled the most pertinent in my tree; my three confidants, a metrosexual, an uber straight guy, a fashionista, an athlete, a musician, a gay man, a lesbian, a sister and a whackadoo. All agreed that 30 was around the proper number to have, and that more is More. They told me that the t-shirt was the foundation for many an outfit, as well as many a situation. It was perfect for the market, the park, and even the gallery opening if accessorised properly. Many launched into stories of t's that they couldn't ever do without with push button speed. Many had no remorse to the shelves, boxes, drawers and counter tops they had that housed their wares/wears. Everyone concluded that t-shirts were as necessary as clean underwear and that an ample supply was to be encouraged. I wondered if this was strictly a pop cultural thing that began with the clever little iron-on t-shirts that surfaced in the seventies. Or if it was a changing of the guard since the generation before us wore white t's and tank t's ('wife beaters' as slang for a piece of clothing is as thoughtless as 'retarded' is for underdeveloped, or 'gay' is for a situation that doesn't even involve homosexuality) dating back as far as the first World War. (photo credit Life)

The concept of underwear came into existence at the turn of the century. American soldiers noticed that their European comrades were sporting lightweight cotton, short-sleeved shirts under their uniforms that provided comfort and coolness. They were quickly copied in the United States and by 1920 Webster's recorded T-Shirt as a part of the English Language. The pocket less, round necked, button less jersey became extremely popular in 1955 when actor James Dean wore one slightly covered by another shirt in "Rebel Without A Cause". The t-shirt became a contemporary symbol of rebellious youth. By the eighties and the nineties the t-shirt became a commentator on contemporary society. In the two thousands, the t-shirt became a commodity in cyberspace and available in any manner or shape. (photo credit monroe gallery)

As I began loading my third drawer in my bureau I felt at ease that these garments were supposed to be the most numerous item in your wardrobe outnumbering even underwear and socks. Three drawers was expected and as long as there was space in the drawer to "shop" for the perfect shirt to wear that day, thirtysomething would suit me to a T.