A city starts with a single coat.

A village, maybe. A little town. It’s a nice place to live or a good place to do business. And then, the second coat. Immigrants, or the children of the founders. The people who come with a dream or have never known anywhere else. The people who stay and are determined to stay forever. And they have kids, and then more people arrive, and soon there’s all sorts of paint stuck to the brush because nobody has ever bothered to clean it off. And this goes on and on.

It might be horrible painting technique but it’s great for a city. Then after a few hundred years, you’ve got skyscrapers and mixed architecture. There’s a little bit of 1840 right next to clean new 2008. The building codes are uneven, people see the strange secret gargoyles hidden here and there, and tourists! When they arrive suddenly it becomes “See the earliest known spot of paint still on the brush! Dates back to the very first coat!”

To some, it’s just a dirty old brush that should have been thrown away ages ago, and they’d never want to be a part of it. To the rest, it’s an achievement. It’s an art that’s come alive.

Wear this shirt: when you’ve been brushed off. Who needs that loser anyway? There are plenty of other fish in the sea.

Don’t wear this shirt: if you’re a Soviet agent trying to take over the city. It’s too complex a joke, nobody’s gonna bother unraveling all the layers. Just wear the dinosaurs and be done with it.

This shirt tells the world: “A city covered in red paint? Still better than Frank Miller’s The Spirit. Hoo, boy, did he misunderstand that character.”

We call this color: If That Drop Gets On The Asphalt You’re Looking At A Fine

Back to top