Deborah Lipp

So I was out in the mall, and we stopped at Friday’s for a drink, and there’s a guy in the back with a weird tie-dye shirt. It’s catching my eye because it’s so weird, and I finally realize, he’s got a big rectangle of tie-dye stitched to the back of his Friday’s shirt. He’s wait staff or something, and he’s wearing a red Friday’s polo shirt, but the entire back, shoulders to waist, is this patch of tie-dye.

I can’t stop staring. It’s cheesy fake pre-printed tie-dye, with pre-printed peace signs on it. The guy has a big beard and looks kind of hippie-freaky, but this is sort of an appalling shirt. On the other hand, it’s a tie-dye uniform. I can’t stop staring. it’s just too weird.

My date is not as compelled by this as I am. He is perplexed that I am even interested in discussing it. It’s a tie-dye shirt, so what? But I can’t stop staring and I can’t figure out why it’s sewn to his work shirt.

Then I start looking around, and I notice that all the employees have customized their work shirts. One has a number on the back and a Yankee’s logo on the front, painstakingly done in fabric paint, and if I knew baseball I’m sure I’d recognize the number. One girl has an exquisite full-back rendering of Mighty Mouse, apparently in Sharpie. But one is kind of half-ass, indicating to me that this is some sort of requirement.

It’s flair. Fake individuality.

I actually checked Friday’s website, there’s nothing about this. It must be unique to this particular location.

The whole thing about “flair,” if you’ve seen Office Space, is that fake individuality is not individuality. Corporations co-opting your ability to express yourself is only an ugly reminder that you’re not really to express yourself.

And yet, the shirts are…really something.