Mom, I'm Grown Up Now. You Can Stop Picking Out My T‑Shirts.

Mom, I know you still sneak looks at my laundry pile. And I know your Amazon cart is full of “100% cotton crewneck,” “classic fit,” “heather grey.” Every time I come home, you hand me a neatly folded stack of new tees with that hopeful smile: “This one makes you look bright, honey. And this one goes with everything.”

Thank you. Really. But let’s be honest – those “goes with everything” tees? They end up at the bottom of my drawer. Not because they’re bad. They’re just… water. And I’ve been thirsty for something with a little fizz.

You might be looking at my latest purchase – an oversized shirt that says “That’s A Awful Lot Of Cough Syrup” – and wondering: Did he join a band? Is this some kind of code?

Let me explain.

That T‑shirt isn't just a shirt. It's a whole mood.

That weird phrase? It’s actually the name of a streetwear brand from L.A. The founder got stopped by cops in a parking lot, and some random guy looked at him and said, “That’s an awful lot of cough syrup.” Most people would be annoyed. He turned it into a clothing label.

That’s the kind of energy I love. It’s not about medicine, Mom. It’s about taking something random, laughing at it, and wearing it like armor. When I put on that Cough Syrup tee, I’m saying: I can handle the weirdness of life. Actually, I’ll wear it on my chest.

This isn’t rebellion. It’s me figuring out my own voice – one graphic at a time.

You always try to help me “not make mistakes.” But I want to make my own.

I remember when you picked everything for me. Pokémon pajamas. Velcro sneakers. That phase when I thought a turtleneck was cool (sorry). Back then, your taste was my taste.

But now I’m old enough to choose an electric orange tee that’s two sizes too big, ripped jeans, and walk into 7‑Eleven for a Slurpee like I own the place.

Not because I want to piss you off. Because when you’re dealing with classes, group projects, part‑time job applications, and people asking “so, any girlfriend yet?” – you realize there’s almost nothing you can fully control. But I can control what’s printed on my chest.

So please, Mom. Stop spending 20 minutes comparing “basic crewnecks” on Amazon. Take that money, or that time, and buy yourself a matcha latte. Watch your show. As for me – I just copped a vintage Cough Syrup t‑shirt on Skysda. The quality is solid, and the print is my favorite Ghostface Scream graphic. And I love it.

My closet is my resume of attitude

You look at my hangers and see chaos. Oversized. Neon. Weird fonts. Maybe even a stain I call “distressing.”

• The Cough Syrup tee → “Don’t try to put me in a box.”
• The faded black one → time did that, not a washing machine. It’s earned.
• The neon green → I’m my own traffic light. I’m not following the crowd.

Streetwear isn’t about being expensive. It’s about scarcity – you miss the drop, you miss it. That feeling of wearing something that isn’t mass‑produced for a Target endcap? That’s way better than any “safe buy.”

“That’s An Awful Lot Of Cough Syrup” isn't a pharmacy run. It’s a badge that says: I don’t do boring.

So let me pick my own tees, okay?

I’m not gonna dye my hair purple (probably). I’m not joining a cult. I just want to decide for myself what I actually like – in a world where everyone’s trying to tell me what I should like.

Next time we talk, don’t say “I got you two tees from Gap.” Say “Hey, I saw this ridiculous shirt online – want me to send you the link?”

I’ll text back in two seconds. Yes. Send it.

Because I know you’ve always trusted me – ever since you let me draw on the living room wall with crayons. You never wanted me to be a copy of anyone else.