Renaissance Dad: Hipster Dad Shirts The other day I was putting away some clean shirts and I ran out of hangers. “I have a ton of extra hangers,” my wife called out. Entering Monica’s closet, I came upon the fanciest hangers I’ve ever seen. The hangers in my closet are all the wire versions, some wrapped in torn paper emblazoned with “Rogers Cleaners,” others with that bent piece of cardboard that can no longer support the weight of a pair of pants. Monica’s clothes hang on the wings of angels. Some of her hangers are coated in fine velvet. Others appear to be carved from a piece of ancient mahogany. These hangers cost more than my shirts. I’m not exaggerating. Every few weeks we donate old clothes to the local thrift shops. And over the years, I’ve acquired 17 shirts from second-hand stores near and far. One haberdasher in particular, the name of which I will not divulge, has been a gold mine for excellently unusual hipster-dad shirts. If it’s some version of plaid/cowboy/ two-pocket button-down casual, I’m interested. Typically these shirts cost me $2.50 each. But on “shirt day” they only run me $1.25. My entire collection of shirts probably cost me $50. It wouldn’t even
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JON KILE
By Jon Kile
be that much but for the three priciest shirts which were a whopping $7 each. I found them — brand new, tags still on — at an “estate sale” of possibly stolen merchandise at a mansion in the Berkshire Mountains. My closet has shirts with strange pieces of decorative metal sewn to them, oddly shaped pockets and shoulder epaulettes. Almost none of them carry a brand I’ve ever heard of. And that’s the way I like it. Middle-aged dads all seem to dress alike. Over the past decade, guys my age have taken to covering their beer bellies with t-shirts bearing comic book heroes, ‘90s rock bands or sarcastic jokes. I might be the only man over 35 who doesn’t own a Captain America t-shirt. And as much as I liked Nirvana, Pink Floyd and the Red Hot Chili Peppers, I refuse to wear a replica ‘90s shirt from a store I will not name because I don’t want them to feel targeted. If only shirts went up in value like Bitcoin. I have a few favorites. One started out as a red shirt, but it has
been washed so many times that it’s closer to salmon or pink. The inside of the collar is lined with a Union Jack pattern, giving it a British flair. But then it goes a step further, with a nod to the Rolling Stones, with a visible patch with the words “Start Me Up.” I believe this shirt actually belonged to Mick Jagger. There’s another gem — a cowboy shirt with snaps that is so thin and airy that it feels like I’m wearing nothing. It’s the sort of shirt that I love now, but one day I’ll look at photos and ask my wife why she let me out of the house with it on. I know this because it’s in approximately half of the photos taken of me in the last two years. I was forced into buying a new shirt recently. I was walking around Key West and began to notice that the town is so overrun with chickens that the whole place smells like the floor of a chicken coop. As I perused the shelves of Books and Books I Hipster Dad continued on page 19
theGabber.com | November 11, 2021 - November 17, 2021
