Lost signs

It all starts with a need. Wearing a T-shirt to communicate a concept, an idea, a sense of belonging or simply the need for comfort.

Researching the origins of the T-shirt took me back to the early 20th century.  First worn by the US Navy and then by soldiers in the field during the First World War, these new short-sleeved white cotton garments were cheap and easy to clean. By the end of the Second World War, they were widely used and recognised, but considered little more than an undershirt to be worn under 'proper' clothing.

In 1950, the film A Streetcar Named Desire, directed by Stanley Kowalski, set a milestone in the way T-shirts were seen and used. Stanley, the character played by Marlon Brando, wore a white T-shirt as his primary garment, a key part of his role, and the T-shirt became the object of a cultural shift and a challenge to ideas of masculinity in post-war America. A few years later, in 1955, James Dean's "Rebel Without a Cause" portrayed the moral decay of American youth, criticised parental guidance and explored conflicts and differences between different generations. The 24-year-old Dean wore a white T-shirt as his primary garment. 

Thanks to and after these two films, the T-shirt became acceptable in our Western society, not only as an outer garment, but also associated with a movement of rebellion against what was considered wrong and in need of change. It became a blank slate for messages, whether political, advertising, graphic or humorous.

In the 1960s, the phenomenon of heat-pressed, die-cut letters, made from a synthetic flock with a thermoplastic resin backing, began to spread in the USA, particularly in New York. It was a quick and inexpensive way of expressing oneself with as many possibilities as the alphabet.

At the time, the US was struggling between huge, raw and complex historical moments: the Vietnam War on the one hand, and civil rights, black power, student activism and women's rights on the other. As a natural reaction, counter-cultures began to grow, and they developed a new kind of political advertising: the language of protest.

It is a fact that travellers arriving at the city's airports in June 1975 were greeted with perhaps the strangest object ever handed out at the gateway to a major city: a pamphlet with a hooded skull on the cover warning them: "Until things change, stay away from New York City if you can".   New Yorkers quickly turned the cover of Fear City into a T-shirt, sold to tourists in souvenir shops alongside other classics such as "Welcome to New York".

Outlaws, motorcycle crews, street gangs wore the same lettering concept applied to leather jackets, sweatshirts or T-shirts where the colours symbolised belonging to a group, a family. Beneath the NY pamphlet's howl of doom lurked a frightening truth. Crime, especially violent crime, had been rising rapidly for years. The number of murders in the city had doubled in a decade, from 681 in 1965 to 1,690 in 1975. In cinematic terms, these were the years of Taxi Driver, The French Connection, Escape from New York, Death Wish and The Warriors, to name but a few. For decades, filmmakers came to New York City not for a generic urban backlot, but to capture the essence of the city, its reality, its colours and its habits.

The use of flock letterpress continued to grow. Many places supplied the product and different fonts were available to choose from, 'Cooper Black' or 'Old English' were the two most common, but these were often modified to the point where an unknown font began to spread. The modified outlines were created for practicality, without plan or design, without following rules or references, simply born with a unique purpose to relate to urban culture, a hip gang, or for the fun of personalising clothes. Shops selling these "uncategorised flock fonts" quickly sprang up in New York. They were small, independent, budget-friendly shops, mainly focused on sports or souvenirs, but with a clever sense of how to make a reliable income.

A different take on the same concept of flocking letters onto clothing became popular overseas, in London, where two young personalities, Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood, launched a new wave of revolutionary slogan T-shirts. Individual, irreverent and DIY, they paved the way for what would soon be called punk. The venue was London's 430 King's Road store called "Sex", which opened in 1974 and was the epitome of the decade's decadence: madcap trousers, velvet, Victorian petticoats, bondage provocation and the tartan brigade of the manufactured Bay City Rollers. There was no style. DIY culture, rooted in great ideas and no tools to realise them, the ethos was: do it, express yourself, make your clothes unique, against the mainstream. They defined the 1970s.

The Clash and B.A.D. used the same flocking font at their concerts, as did the Beastie Boys and Public Enemy.

Like unwritten rules passed down from one generation to the next, this uncathegorised font, born in New York as a gesture of rebellion and a reason for small businesses to grow and generate easy income, has rolled on through the years. It has always belonged to like-minded people who could hardly fit into a square social box, who never wanted to give up their voice in protest. 

A typeface that wasn't designed 'by the book', but created by someone's desire. Someone who needed to get a message across.

My fascination with subcultures, independent labels and creative minds led me to discover old pictures of motorcycle gangs, groups of athletes, dancers, and I noticed that they often wore customised t-shirts or sweatshirts with the name of their team/gang. Looking deeper, I found that this was not a coincidence, but a need to be different from anything mainstream, with their own words, their own colours.

In my studies of subcultures, it is clear that the need to wear patches, colours or branded clothing is linked to the human need to belong, with its attachment to human motivations, emotions, social inclusion and self-presentation. Belonging is defined as an entry point into a social relationship, represented by a small sign of social connection to an individual or group. The story of the lost Flocking Letters font amazed me to the point that I looked into the possibility of reproducing and replicating it with the aim of giving a chance to everyone who feels the need to communicate a message.

Independent, subversive, alternative to the mainstream.

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