Word: shirt
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...usual Wednesday afternoon subway crowd: tiny Asian grandmothers clutching shopping bags, girls in leggings lost in their iPod worlds, thirty-somethings in scrubs who got on and off at Charles MGH. But the black passengers seemed changed, somehow. Maybe it was the young black man wearing a shirt of the type that usually has a hip-hop artist plastered across its front, only Tupac’s face was replaced by Barack Obama’s. Or maybe it was the black woman who sat in the seat across from me, beaming when our eyes met. Or maybe...
...fashion (and the philosophical ponderings of the intersection between the two) thrust upon me by a pair of kicks. With the conference celebrating Andy Warhol’s legacy at the Sackler this past weekend and Barack Obama’s image superimposed on t-shirts and posters across campus, this idea of art, popular culture, and fashion—that art is fashion and fashion is art—kept popping into my head. That fashion is a form of artistic expression, and vice versa, seems inevitable in today’s consumer culture, but was this always...
...mystery and anticipation. The audience was a mixture, as well—of old and young, rustic and intellectual, neophyte and old believer. When the man that they were all waiting for, that had brought them together under those timbers that night, took the stage—burly, black shirt, slightly stooped with guitars in both hands—that hum of anticipation burst into a roar. Without a word, he sat down at his stool in the spotlight, adjusted the microphone towards his instrument, and began to play.There are few living guitarists who could consider themselves equal...
When Jessica Reinhart and her best friend from college decided to celebrate their graduation by backpacking through Europe she thought she'd come home with a commemorative T-shirt and maybe a shot glass. But once they hit the dark and narrow streets of Venice, the two tossed the guise of just-friends into the nearest canal and became a couple...
...Billy and me, it was love at first lick. From the moment we locked eyes, we were literally drooling over each other (trust me, I had a stain on my shirt to prove it). We’d snuggle under the covers and stay up together into the wee hours of the night. We’d go on jogs and picnics (after all, he was a natural outdoorsman). And it wasn’t all just frivolous frolicking. Like any great romance, Billy’s love has changed...