Part I: A (Partially) Patriotic Preamble
On July Fourth, the American people celebrate the declaration of independence of our great nation from what is typically described in most history classes as the evil claw of Britain. Personally, I don’t see what could be so horrible about a mandatory tea and crumpet hour, but I suppose this is why I’m only a demi-American. My partial Canadian allegiance aside, I full heartedly enjoy the Fourth, which generally entails attending a consistently mediocre municipal street festival, consuming too much of some kind of red, white, and blue cool whip confection courtesy of my mother, and providing my dog with a steady stream of Xanax at firework o’clock.
Things I do not enjoy about Independence Day include:
Honey Boo Boo-esque closet vomit that spills into the streets on this otherwise picturesque day. Flag t-shirts that unfold themselves from the dark depths of bottom dresser drawers nationwide. Preteens who take advantage of the festivities to debut their dangly red, white, and blue belly rings, much to the horror of both their parents and Uncle Sam. Starred and striped nylon harem pants with crotches that plummet to MC Hammer altitudes. It is truly a national state of emergency.
Part II: Declaration of Red, White, and New
When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one increasingly fashion-forward company to dissolve the untrendy bonds which have annually connected one Americana-clad patriot to another on one very special day in July, and to assume among the merchandising powers of shopping malls near and far, the station to which the need of the poorly dressed American people entitle it, a decent respect to the opinions of the once tackily-clad consumer requires that they should declare the causes* which impel them to modernize the style of the celebratory Amurikan.
(…These Committee of Five dudes were big fat fans of exercising their right to use the comma.)
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their self-image and their pocketbooks with certain rights of style, that among these are a good deal, a great fit, and the pursuit of a…tasteful…patriotic ensemble.
*Allow me to declare the cause; If you are going to celebrate the Fourth like a real patriot-- hot dog in hand, face decorated with stars, stripes, and ketchup to boot, you might be inclined to splatter your condiments on something sliiiightly less important than well, the American flag.
Look familiar? Thankfully, not for much longer. In a surrious measure to rejuvenate its own image, and in turn, the image of festive Amurikans from sea to shining sea, Old Navy has largely cut down on production of the notorious flag tee that haunted my entire elementary career from its Fourth of July repertoire. In its place sits a collection of less, erm, literal, patriotic garb that is currently marked down to prices that contest the Dollarama.