Merch, you may have heard, is dead—but graphic tees are forever cool. We all own them, we all have our favorites, and we all anoint them as such based on highly-specific rubrics. Which is to say: the pursuit of the perfect graphic tee is personal, and also startlingly universal. At their best, graphic tees can telegraph allegiances—to bands, sports teams, and the occasional hardware store—express attitudes—pro-philosophy, say, or anti-capitalism—and advertise roughly sixty different other things all at once.
We all have our own reasons for loving one graphic tee over another, and at GQ Recommends, we never really stop searching for more. So to help get you involved in the hunt, we aggregated a who’s who of our favorite options on the market right now—owned, coveted, or otherwise—culled from brands big and small, upstart and established, with a healthy smattering of vintage gems mixed in for good measure. From one-off shop tees with weirdo patterns to discrete luxury tees with nary a color in sight, these are the printed T-shirts we’re ogling at the moment, and why they deserve a spot in your closet, too.
Avidan Grossman, Senior Commerce Editor
Like most New Yorkers, my taste in tees skews niche and city-centric. I’d rather pony up for a priceless-to-me piece of ephemera than, like, a T-shirt celebrating the unholy union of two brands a marketing department decided have “disruptive synergy”. The graphic tees I love tend to be weirdo gems of yesteryear, plenty of which you can score for the low on eBay, Etsy, or via a flourishing network of online dealers. If you can’t get past the idea of stewing in someone else’s juices, don’t sweat it: there’s no shortage of capital-D Designers hawking vintage-inspired joints of their own—though you’ll have to drop Capital-D Designer money to snag one.
Tyler Chin, Associate Commerce Lifestyle Editor
I caught the graphic-tee bug in high-school, when I was eager to express myself. I gave them up around college, when I pivoted to more basic alternatives—but now I’m back on my BS thanks to a newfound vintage obsession. Like my colleagues, I prefer graphics that actually mean something to me, whether it’s a band I really like (I do, in fact, love AC/DC; they were the first concert I went to) or a reference to the place I grew up (NYC, baby). Sure, sometimes I’ll cop a tee just because the graphic is really sick, but my dresser is overwhelmingly filled with shirts that are a reflection of me—take it or leave it.
Reed Nelson, Contributing Writer
I don’t know how many graphic tees I own, and don’t plan on counting anytime soon—some things are better left a mystery. And while I love a thrashed, relevant-to-me vintage tee, I also love to do the thrashing myself. When it comes to graphics, those that feel personal are A1, but I’m also into oddball shit (like a sock monkey perched atop the phrase “PACK KUSH IN”); sometimes, the less sense it makes, the more I like it. And while vintage NY sports apparel is basically a narcotic for me, there’s nothing wrong with buying something that mimics a grail if it nails the reference material’s original proportions—though I still stick to my teams, for better or worse.
Gerald Ortiz, Commerce Style Writer
For a graphic tee to earn a plot of real estate in my closet, it has to speak to me. The average person wearing an Unknown Pleasures tee might not be able to name three Joy Division songs, but I like to think that the graphic tees in my own rotation remain closely connected to my personhood, whether someone else knows it or not. They could be referencing a band, an obscure hometown restaurant, or just offer a clever play on what is, admittedly, a very tired medium. Here are a few I’m considering adding to my already-bloated collection.
Michael Nolledo, Associate Commerce Director
Half the fun of scoring the “perfect” graphic tee is assessing its potential as a future conversation-starter. So the shirts I gravitate towards are really just an opening for the kind of small-talk (or approving nod) I secretly wish for, whether it’s about Grace Wale Bonner’s sartorial ode to Howard University or Nina Chanel Abney’s delightful reworking of one of the most iconic logos of all time. If any of the T-shirts below interest you, my DMs are open.
