I have loved this Saint Vitus shirt since the day I bought it, March 25, 2011. If I’m not mistaken, it was the esteemed Kim Kelly who sold it to me, at Irving Plaza in Manhattan. Vitus were playing the Metalliance traveling festival, alongside Helmet, Crowbar, Kylesa, Howl and The Atlas Moth (show review here), and I knew on-sight that the shirt was something special. Had to have it.

A reasonable estimate seems to me that if you’ve seen me in a public place in the last four years, there’s at least a 30 percent chance I was wearing this shirt. Last night, doing my usual toss and turn routine in my sleep, I moved my left art up and under my pillow, felt the fabric give — even a Gildan Ultra Cotton can only take so many years of punishment — and mumbled out a barely conscious “ah shit,” because I knew what had happened and I knew it meant that the already-existing armpit hole had just gone from keep-your-hand-down to unfit-for-public-wearing. It’s a fine line sometimes, but looking this morning definitely confirmed my favorite Saint Vitus shirt is on the other side of it. What a bummer.

This shirt has seen me off to more shows than I care to count, has accompanied me to four Roadburn festivals, two Desertfests, to SHoDs and Stoned Goats and much, much more. It’s been a loyal companion through my move from New Jersey to Massachusetts — anywhere I put it on was home — and together with my Brothers of the Sonic Cloth shirt formed a reliable duo that never let me down.

If I could bear to do anything with it other than stick it in a box marked “SENTIMENTAL CLOTHES,” I’d have it cryogenically frozen until I could clone it or 3D-print myself a new one. Or maybe a Viking funeral. Either ice or fire; some elemental extremity worthy of celebrating it. There are other holes as well, and while the teary six year old in me wonders at the possibility of a patch or sewing the seam back together, my clearheaded, through-the-five-stages-of-grief adult self knows the cotton is too worn and it would never work. The moment has simply passed and it’s time to say goodbye.

I’ve had plenty of good shirts in my day, even other Vitus shirts, but few that I’ve enjoyed as much as this one. Not only because Saint Vitus are an incredible band, or because that was the first time I saw them play “Blessed Night” — the first new song they wrote after getting back together in 2009 — but just because it fit so damn well. I’m not a small guy. I’m not out there wearing a medium. For me, to find a shirt where the sleeves reach or go past my elbow and the chest is wide enough and the shirt itself long enough — it’s not something that happens every day or with every shirt. The Vitus shirt was perfect. It was just right.

Already it was semi-retired, only broken out for shows or other special occasions — I wore it to Thanksgiving last year, pretty sure I wore it out to dinner for The Patient Mrs. birthday — but after last night, it’s time to give up the ghost and put it into full retirement, never to return. Rest assured, it will be missed. Gone but not forgotten.

Saint Vitus, “Blessed Night” Live at Irving Plaza, March 25, 2011

Tags: Sad shit, Saint Vitus

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