The Art of Wearing T-Shirts

Comic-Con, like most of you would assume, is packed full of nerds. Despite the fact that the convention has been drawing a less nerdish crowd, and despite the fact that comic books in general have been gaining cool people credibility, the majority of people who read comics are generally more concerned with knowing the minutiae of fictional worlds featuring a surprising number of super powered people than they do about social conventions, like showering and the art of conversation that does not revolve around the question of who could beat whom in a fight.

I know that all of you who see me a suave, globe-trotting academic will find this surprising, but these are my people (and for those of you who know me, you can stop laughing now). Take for example, my high school obsession with The Simpsons. I came into adulthood with The Simpsons, both of us maturing and growing old together - both of us fading from relevance at about the same time (and I know that they are still making new episodes, but really...when was the last time The Simpsons mattered?). This was also the time that The Simpsons were really popular, appearing on Fox at least three times a day. I knew everything about that show, could quote most episode from beginning couch gag to end credits, and would have endless discussions about the cultural relevance of each episode. I once dated a girl that said I quote Simpsons episodes like Catholics quote the Bible.

Because the show was so much my life, I tend to own quite a lot of Simpsons paraphernalia: Simpsons Chess, Simpsons Clue, several releases of Simpson toys, Simpsons ties, Simpsons boxers, etc. etc. I owned all The Simpsons episodes released on VHS, and up to Season 5 on DVD (I was really bothered by the DVD packaging on Season 6 because it does not match the rest of my collection; Homer's head was not at all like the neat, cardboard packaging that I was used to, nor did it fit on the shelf as nicely; and I can't buy the seasons out of order - that would be crazy). I owned and read all The Simpson encyclopedias that detail all the episodes. My friends and I used to have Simpson's parties where we would watch hours of The Simpsons; this was in the age before DVD players, and before they appeared sporadically on VHS, so I would bootleg the episodes off the TV. Armed with boxes of VHS tapes, we would watch, quote and discuss the afternoon away. Hell, I wrote a paper on how The Simpsons comment on American masculinity, and I have been crafting a cultural theory class around the show.

So, I can really appreciate the crowd at Comic-Con. I get waiting in line for hours to see your heroes. There was certainly a time when I would have waited hours to meet Dan Castellanetta or Hank Azaria.

One thing that I like best about Comic-Con are the t-shirts. I am a man that likes t-shirts. If ever you are thinking you would like to buy me something that I would 1) appreciate, 2) love, and 3) get a lot of use out of, then find a clever t-shirt (such as those found at Snoorg or TopatoCo [especially those at TopatoCo for the webcomics I like]).

But, as any one who has studied rhetoric can tell you, there is more to a t-shirt selection than one might imagine, especially when the t-shirt features so prominently in your cultural group (here, read: comic nerds). The key is: you want to show this community that you belong, that you speak it's language and share it's interest; while at the same time, you want this inclusion to seem natural and unforced. In other words, as anyone who has seen PCU knows, you never wear the shirt of the band you are going to see (I looked for the clip where Jeremy Piven said that line, but it wasn't on YouTube; I thought this clip was relevant). In this case, when going to hear about comic books, I find it overkill to wear comic book t-shirts (though I do own several). So, to show that I am part of this community, I need to pick my garb carefully. In fact, I am nearly as worried about what t-shirts I am going to bring with me as I am about the talk I am giving at the conference.

So what I am left to do now is rifle through my closet stuffed with t-shirts making esoteric references to associated nerd things like video games (like my shirt that has a huge, ultra-green Triforce of Power emblazoned on it), and cartoon shows (like my Aqua Teen Hunger Force or Harvey Birdman: Attorney at Law shirts); or t-shirts that are clever (like the t-shirt I have with a Venn diagram on it, the consonants in one circle, the vowels in the other, and "y" in the intersection).

It might seem like I am making a lot out of very little, that the clothes one wears couldn't possibly matter that much, but think about going on an interview: the clothing choices made speak a lot about the individual. Wearing a tie could say that you are a professional person, or could suggest that you are stodgy. If a woman wears pants to an interview it could say that she is a modern woman dressed to be taken seriously, or it could suggest a lack of femininity that may or may not be true. This convention is like an interview for me. Here is where I will meet with other academics and publishers who take this stuff very seriously. If I show up looking like I've never read a comicbook, or am distant from that culture, I might not be taken a seriously as if I show up wearing a shirt that features a large dinosaur in a mortar board, clutching several large books with the words "THESAURUS" blasted across the bottom.