Vintage Tease.
To celebrate summer, let’s try a new thing where we send in a shot of our favorite vintage t-shirt, shall we? From a concert, your favorite team, the memorable bar where that hot guy/girl got you off? Tell us something about it - like, what’s the story behind it? What makes it your favorite? We will run this column every Saturday, or as long as we get your tee’s.
I’ll start.
My Favorite Tee. from Dish
Why I Love It. Before I had my pup Koko, I had Rikki. I really miss her. I mean, I continue to yearn for the reassuring feel of her long body leaning against my right leg as I read. It was a fluke that I ended up with her at all.
I used to spend a lot of time in Jackson Hole, Wyoming and probably for that reason the Instagram account for SVALINN, a dog breeder and trainer that used to be based in Jackson Hole, kept showing up. I fell in love with a puppy that they shared a lot of snaps of and, well, one thing led to another. By the time I decided I couldn’t live without her, SVALINN had moved to Livingston, Montana and Lola (my existing dog) and I were on a flight to meet Rikki.
They gave me this t-shirt on my second trip out to Montana, to take her home. Rikki passed away last fall, but my love for her hasn’t faded a bit. Neither has the t-shirt I got when she walked into my life, even though it’s my favorite and I’ve been wearing it everywhere for years.
From Tom (but pictured on Sally).
Why I Love It.
“This shirt? Man, this shirt takes me back.
It’s from the Tedeschi Trucks Band show—July 7, 2017, Providence, Rhode Island. They played the old Providence Performing Arts Center, which if you’ve never been, is one of those grand old places that still smells like velvet and history. Part of their Wheels of Soul tour. Twelve-piece band, horns, backup singers, the whole thing—it was big, loud, and badass in all the right ways.
I’d been wanting to see them for years. Derek Trucks is a monster on guitar—played with the Allman Brothers back in the day—and he’s married to Susan Tedeschi, who’s got one of those voices that just cuts right through you. They put on a show that night that felt like the second coming of southern rock and soul. Never got to see the Allmans, but I‘d guess this is about as close as it gets.
Hot Tuna opened—another band I’d had on the list forever. Old-school, bluesy, still sharp as hell.
Sally—my wife—and I drove down, made a little getaway out of it. Got a room, had a few drinks, saw a killer show. For a few hours, we were 18 again. No work, no bills, no aches and pains—just music and good vibes.
And the best part? Sally still rocks the t-shirt all the time in the summer. She let me take a shot of it for you. Faded now, a little soft from wear, but every time she puts it on, I smile. One of those nights you keep tucked away, just to remind yourself that yeah, you and your girl still got it.”
From Patricia
I Love Tongue, from The Butcher Shop, Boston, 2016. I’m pretty sure I got this t-shirt at The Butcher Shop in Boston’s South End around 2010. The Butcher Shop was Barbara Lynch’s “tribute to old world boucheries.” (I had to look that word up, it‘s French for butcher shop, what do you know.) At any rate, I used to meet a friend there after work because you could get a seat at the bar and order a great glass of red wine, a terrific meatball dish and a salad and call it a night.
Alas, in 2016 Lynch was at the peak. Pretty sure she’d been awarded a James Beard by then, she had the only restaurant in Boston that had a Michelin star and she ran an empire. Everything was done in her distinctive, unfussy but sophisticated old world Italian-influenced style. The Butcher Shop imploded along with her whole empire around ‘24 after allegations of harassment, unpaid taxes and other unfortunate stories came out. (She said her empire went under because of high rents and uncooperative landlords but … ) It was a shame, though, to see a local woman who had been raised in the Southie projects by a single mother with many kids (maybe six) go down like that.
Still, the shirt is cool. It’s sly and funny and I think of it as Lynch showing a little bit of ‘fuck you humor.’
The Crush Letter
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