The pattern of my destiny?

The story of my trademark shirts, with bonus designs

“Accept whatever comes to you woven in the pattern of your destiny, for what could more aptly fit your needs?”
—Marcus Aurelius

One of the hand-drawn patterns I’ve been experimenting with, inspired by Victorian wallpaper.

I wasn’t always obsessed with pattern. Color I embraced fairly early — as soon as I was old enough to start choosing my own clothes, I embraced bold, often clashing colors. I’ve always felt compelled to stand out, and blazing neon hues provided a shortcut to satisfaction. 

Pattern came later. In the mid-’90s, there was a pervasive, half-ironic obsession with the ‘70s — for older Gen-Xers, it was a method of reckoning with the weirdness of their childhoods, but for their slightly younger counterparts, like me, it was a glimpse into the strange world that preceded our consciousness. Those fashions, that music — what were people thinking? 

My first patterned polyester shirt was purchased on a dare in 1994, a month or two before my high-school graduation. I found it on a rack at the Salvation Army with a group of friends who immediately dubbed it the “freaky-styley shirt.” It was like $3 and I figured I’d wear it as a gag to a party and throw it out. 29 years later, it’s still part of my wardrobe, along with dozens of others like it. 

Here it is! Hope did a great job of making me look like a ‘70s magazine ad.

By the middle of college, these shirts were my Thing, and somehow I’ve never gotten tired of it. Most of them are vintage polyester, and therefore alarmingly resilient — they’re older than I am, and, provided I’m willing to sew back the occasional popped button, the only thing that will do them in is a lit match.

Here’s a glimpse at my closet right now:

My closet has two annual rotations: long sleeves from around October to May, and short sleeves for the summer. (Inactive shirts are folded and boxed for the season.) Since loudly-patterned short sleeve shirts are a better-known schtick, I inevitably have more of them, many of which were purchased new. (I’ve forsworn most straight-up “Hawaiian” shirts because over the years I’ve become an embodiment of that stereotype rather than a playful tweak to it). I’m a bit more partial to my long-sleeves - I dunno, they feel stranger and more distinctive, authentic survivors of a groovier era. Either way, the only time I don’t wear a patterned, button-down shirt is when I’m sleeping or engaged in physical labor. 

The pattern fixation goes beyond shirts. An exciting dress or jacket will turn my head on the street. If I owned my home, the first thing I’d do is salivate over wallpaper samples. I regularly sit up in bed leafing through books filled with textile reproductions. It’s music for my eyes, which I’m happy to replay any chance I get. 

I frequently wonder if my obsession with pattern has any deeper meaning. One theory is that it provides a combination of thrill and certainty: There’s an immediate dopamine burst upon seeing a colorful or complex new pattern, which eases into comfort with the familiarity of its inner repetition.

The first part might be more significant than the second — that splash of surprise, the ocular imposition of an unexpected, unnatural color combination. I can imagine being satisfied by a pattern that never repeats, infinite variations on a single theme. But I guess the repetition provides structure. It gives me a giddy feeling to see a pattern’s motif unfold across a garment or wall. I like trying to suss out where the seams are, and I especially like it when that’s not an easy task. The idea of wearing, say, an abstract expressionist painting is less appealing than something with a more easily graspable logic. 

In the end, it might be the sheer decadence of pattern that excites me. We don’t NEED patterns on their clothes. Unless they’re military camouflage, they’re not remotely functional. They’re strictly decorative, the sort of absurd embellishment that makes life worth living. A culture that can afford to create a dizzying array of affordably priced ornaments for common people to wear is, in some sense, thriving. (Whether it’s sustainable is another question…)

As someone who has a loose facility with the graphic arts, I’m of course interested in creating patterns of my own. It’s been slow-going, but here are a few more hand-drawn samples. 

I think this one still needs work - the blacks need to be lightened or better distributed - but it’s a fun start.

This was an experiment in contrasting with some darker colors.

Maybe I was inspired by Louis Vuitton here?

A lot more subdued than the others, and another one I’d consider unfinished - still I think the undulating crossword grid is kind of interesting.

What’s my endgame with these? I have no idea. At some point I’ll probably upload some to Spoonflower and take a look at some samples. Ultimately, I’d love to have shirts tailored for me that feature my own patterns. I mean, of course I’d love to see other people wearing them too, but I don’t have the foggiest idea how to get involved in that. 

If I were to pick one of these to get printed first, which one would it be? What other items could we make out of them? Would you be interested? Should I keep going?