The American T Party

From Waikiki to Wall Street, men, women and children of all vintages, shapes and inclinations are finding a new way to get something off their chests --by putting it on them. They are doing so decked out--and frequently spaced out--in versions of the old World War II T shirt. Underwear elevated to glamour, the current Model T has suddenly become the hottest fashion trend in the U.S. It might be called the dress-to-express vogue.

In infinite variety, the new T shirts are printed to order by the thousands with a picture or slogan that reflects the wearer's whims and wheezes, concerns, complaints, sentiments (SHARING MAKES YOU SMILE INSIDE), politics, and anything else he or she may want to proclaim, profess or promote. Thanks to novel techniques, notably a fast-heat pressure press that can transfer to a T shirt any picture, design or message in full color, major department stores such as Manhattan's Macy's and Chicago's Carson Pirie Scott and hundreds of small T shops across the country let buyers pick from an almost limitless selection of designs and sayings--or fashion their own.

On a beach in Long Island's with-it Hamptons, one comely lady last week sported a shirt labeled simply VAN CLEEF & ARPELS--a Fifth Avenue gem dispensary--explaining that her husband had bought it in place of "other merchandise from there." Superstar Paul Newman's T advises: DRINK WET CEMENT . . . GET REALLY STONED. Indeed, with the likes of Joanne Woodward (wearing Husband Paul's face centered on her front), Yoko Ono, Carly Simon and an Alabama comedienne and L.A. talk-show regular who cottons to a replica of a fried egg on each well-poached breast, show-biz bashes these days seem mostly T parties.

The biggest influence in the shirt spurt is a year-old Manhattan company cryptically called J.B.T.* Chroma.

Through thousands of stores, it has sold more than 1.5 million pop shirts. Like other companies in the business, J.B.T.C. sells shirts, equipment and several hundred heat transfers to stores.

Customers can choose for their chests old magazine covers, orange-crate labels from the '20s (JUCIFUL), paintings, cartoons, 1940s line drawings of Stars Charles Boyer, Judy Garland and Errol Flynn and any number of messages that invite massage, including a picture of a stallion labeled STUD. And there are Ts for two: couples may wear matching shirts, or proclaim their love with HIS and HERS (or even more visibly in San Francisco, HIS and HIS).

No Passing Fad. Why the vogue for underwear turned outer? For one thing, Ts are relatively cheap (ranging from $3.25 to a top of $14.95); they also eliminate ties and the button crunching of laundries. And as Eloise Laws, 28, a black show-biz beauty shopping on Long Island, put it, "I chose the design, the color, the style. I feel like I created this one myself."

A passing fad? Not according to the Gimbels chain (67 stores), whose main Manhattan store sells more than 1,000 imprints a week. The chain, says one executive, will stay with the T "forever."

Fashions are never forever, but this one, while it lasts, should have a run of fun.

* Named "for good luck" after John Beresford Tipton, the character in the 1950s' The Millionaire TV series who gave away $1 million a week.

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