Bryce Canyon National Park shirt

Product Description

Designing the kits Bryce Canyon National Park shirt for Olympic and Paralympic athletes to compete in is hardly a simple task. It’s one that takes in the demands of multiple, wildly different sports, as well as comfort, performance and some kind of unifying aesthetic that shows a gymnast, a sprinter and a breakdancer are on the same team. So it’s no surprise that this level of juggling quite often leads to kits like the Adidas one being worn by Team GB for the Paris Olympics – one that feels a little generic, and “designed by committee”. If you asked Midjourney to design a British Olympic kit, it might look something like this. Included in the press images are taekwondo practitioners Bianca Cook and Caden Cunningham, long jumper Jazmin Sawyers and sprinter Nethaneel Mitchell-Blake for the Olympics, which start in July, and Olivia Breen and Zak Skinner, who both take part in long jump and sprints, along with their sprint counterpart Thomas Young for this year’s Paralympics, which begin in August. There’s no doubt they look great but look closer and it’s possibly more from the fact that these are young people full of hope and excitement for an upcoming multi-sport event than the clothes they are wearing.

Bryce Canyon National Park shirt, hoodie, sweater, longsleeve and ladies t-shirt

Unisex tshirt

Women’s tshirt

Longsleeve tshirt

Sweaters

Hoodies

Then around 2019 Bryce Canyon National Park shirt the fashion internet moved to TikTok. There were new faces here: younger women more adept at producing videos than their older counterparts. They had ring lights and smooth, cherubic faces seemingly made for the camera. When I joined TikTok in late 2020, the algorithm quickly directed me to them. Every day I opened the app and watched “Get Ready With Me” (GRWM) videos, the contemporary iteration of the bloggers’ Outfit of the Day posts. I watched “content creators” review jewellery brands and makeup looks, or pose cheekily on a New York sidewalk for a quick “fit check” (always kicking up a heel to show off their shoes). TikTok was where I learned about Shein. For a while my For You page served me videos of sustainable fashion influencers decrying Shein’s labour and environmental practices. Of all the fast-fashion producers, Shein has attracted the most criticism. It has removed products from sale after toxic chemicals were found in them; it produces fabrics such as spandex that never decompose (at this point an image would flash across the screen: a mountain of discarded clothes in the Chilean desert so large it is visible from space); workers in some of its factories earn $556 a month to make 500 pieces of clothing every day, work 18-hour days, and use their lunch breaks to wash their hair – a schedule they repeat seven days a week with only one day off a month. A more nuanced TikToker might point out, briefly, that conditions in Shein factories are not necessarily unique, or that focusing on suppliers – rather than the larger systems of western consumption and capitalism that create these conditions – is a fool’s errand, but the platform isn’t built for that kind of dialogue. I clicked on the comments and invariably read ones with several dozen likes saying: “I’m so willing to die in Shein clothes.”