To a T.

What is casual, can stretch to fit all sizes, and is appropriate for any occasion, from fashionable to that of the most humble sort? What item of clothing can make a statement so clearly that it’s impossible to miss? Here’s a hint. At one time, it was considered underwear, but now it’s no big deal if you wear it to the grocery store. Forget Madonna. I’m talking about T-shirts.

It’s funny. In the catalogs, both off and online, the T is always capitalized. Many think this has something to do with its shape. But no, the initial design of this invaluable garment originated with a guy named, Tom. Tom knew a good thing when he saw it and sent off one of his first prototypes to the Patent Office in 1897, with the words “Patent # What?” scrawled by hand on the front. Because of his foresight and business acumen, generations of Tom’s descendants have lived the good life of those whose ancestors were either brilliant, as in this case, or ruthless, as in the case of countless others.

The T-shirt became the first line of defense in the war on perspiration. It also provided a layer of warmth in colder climates. It combined practicality and versatility.

Although the T-shirt did not live in fear and secrecy, it remained something of an unmentionable until Clark Gable established it as a fundamental garment of masculinity. After his historic portrayal as Clark Gable, visibly at ease, in a T-shirt, men all over America were soon posing for their sweethearts and just about every other woman they could corner. They even posed in front of mirrors, enjoying the confluence of form and function. In this case, their own form. They contemplated the bulges that were highlighted. For some, this was an endlessly fascinating biceptual moment of rapture. For others, it was a not altogether romantic revelation of love handles.

The rise of the Japanese economy and workforce, as the source of everything cheap and essential, propelled the worldwide adoption of the T-shirt. Inexpensive colorfast dyes didn’t hurt either. Suddenly, the T-shirt was seen everywhere. From the crowded streets of India to the leisurely boulevards of Indiana. From the sand dunes of Timbuktu to the street lights of Times Square. From the beaches of Sao Paulo to the wheatfields of South Dakota.

Small children, big children, male and female, young and old, people of all philosophies, political persuasions, and those petite or even more than portly were wearing them. This trend in fashion was quickly followed by jeans and athletic shoes. In dress, if not in ideology, the world came together for the first time in history.

This humble item soon found its voice. At first, it identified with a team or a garage on South Street, but it soon developed to carry messages from sources as varied as Einstein and Mickey Mouse.

Here are just a couple of examples:

Make Love, Not War
I’m with Stupid.
I’m not as Dumb as you look.
Where there’s a will, I want to be in it.
I say no to drugs, but they won’t listen.
A day without sunshine is, you know, night.

Once I saw a teen-aged girl, walking with her parents. Her shirt read, ‘I Bring The Pain.’ As a parent, I can’t seem to shake that image.

With the right T-shirt, I feel ready for anything. I am able to draw from my drawers a shirt appropriate for any occasion. There is no limit to what I can say or what my walking canvas can convey. Without it, I am at a loss. Voiceless, unsure, and half-naked. Not exhibiting, not highlighting, not protesting. Not cool, not hip, and not hot. Just a guy. Just another lumpy torso. Just me.

But, damn, just look at those biceps.