What Happens to Dreams Screen Printed on Cotton
You know what’s weird about being a shirt designer? Sometimes your inventory becomes a time capsule of “what could have been” overnight. I’m sitting here staring at my Kamala Harris designs, and I can’t help but think about all the other designers and sellers out there in the same boat.
Full disclosure: I put a lot of hope into these designs, not just for sales (though hey, we all need to eat), but because they represented something bigger. Each shirt was like a tiny billboard for possibility — the first woman president, a new chapter in American history, all that good stuff.
But here’s the thing about political merch — it’s like reading tea leaves for the American dream. One day you’re riding high on a trend, watching the orders roll in, and the next? Let’s just say I’ve got some really well-designed conversation pieces in my inventory.
I keep thinking about all the people who bought these shirts. The excited supporters who wore them to rallies, the optimistic voters who posted selfies on social media, and the true believers who thought this time would be different.
What do they do with those shirts now? Do they become pajamas? Gym wear? Or do they get folded away in drawers like little cotton time capsules of “Remember when we thought…”?
It’s kind of funny — while my Kamala designs aren’t exactly flying off the shelves anymore, they tell a story about America that’s bigger than just campaign merchandise.
Each unsold shirt is like a little reminder of how we keep dreaming big in this country, even when things don’t work out the way we hoped.
And let’s be real — this isn’t the first time political merch has had to reinvent itself.
I’ve seen people turn old campaign shirts into everything from cleaning rags to protest wear. Some folks even collect them, like concert tees from bands that broke up before their time. There’s something beautifully American about that — taking what could be seen as a failure and turning it into something else entirely.
The irony isn’t lost on me that while I’m writing this, somewhere out there, someone’s probably making bank with victory shirts for the other side. That’s just how this game works — one person’s clearance item is another’s cherished memorabilia.
You want to know the really wild part? Even now, weeks after the election, I still get the occasional order. Maybe it’s from someone who collects political memorabilia, or maybe it’s from someone who isn’t ready to let go of what those shirts represented.
Either way, I pack each one carefully, knowing it carries a little piece of history, even if it’s not the history we expected to make.
So what happens to all those Kamala Harris shirts now?
They become whatever we need them to be. — reminders, rags, relics, or just really comfortable shirts to wear while we dream up the next big thing. Because that’s what we do here in America — we keep designing, keep printing, keep believing.
Even when the only thing we know for sure is that there’s always another election coming, and with it, another chance to print our hopes onto cotton and wear them close to our hearts.
And hey, if you’re interested in buying a slightly historic piece of campaign merch, I might know someone with a few extra shirts in stock. Just saying.
Thank you for reading.
