Apparently an article I wrote is causing akerfuffle on the SuicideGirls forums. Well whoop de doo. Anyway, here's the article:
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I HAVE a problem. When I see neat piles of glossy new "rock" T-shirts in fashion stores, I have a Withnail & I moment: "You can stuff it up your arse for nothing and f-- off while you're doing it."

Yes, it's cool to wear AC/DC, Ramones, Blondie and even Motorhead or Dead Kennedys T-shirts these days, even if you don't know who the hell they are - and as someone with a drawer full of precious moth-eaten rock tees, hoodies and tour jackets, I find myself staring despondently through the windows of Dangerfield (or equivalent) and wondering: when did fandom become a trend?

To paraphrase the Almost Famous groupie Sapphire, do these happy shoppers know what it's like to love some silly piece of band merch so much it hurts, until it falls apart at the seams? For those of us who still think rock is sacred, it feels like a slap in the face to have these pretenders following what Cleo or FHMCollections say is hip.

Back in the "old days", wearing the band's T-shirt/badge/patch was a not-so-secret code between fans.

Doubters could ask, "Are you a fan?" and the answer would of course be, "Would I be wearing this if I wasn't?" The other night I stepped out wearing my Reign in Blood-era Slayer hoodie; I passed two teenaged metalheads and as I kept walking I heard, "Infamous! Butcher! Angel of deaaaath!" whispered, fading into the cold night air.

T-shirts, like bootleg vinyl and rare Japanese CD singles, should be bought at the merch van or Missing Link or International Trash, and eventually traded between the faithful at the lowest price that won't insult the memory of the artist. If you've decided you no longer want to wear your love of Aerosmith or Testament or Bill Wyman's Monkey Grip on your chest, you either file it away or give/sell it to a fellow fan; as Keith Richards said (of music, sure), "You've gotta pass it on, man."

These days? Wear it if it's cool, while it's cool, and then chuck it for the next trend. Poor old Johnny Rotten.

In America, Kmart has launched a new initiative: fully licensed reproductions of original tour T-shirts that come with notes on the band. So you can wear the original Led Zep '77 US tour tee and drop dinner party convo about "that" mud shark incident - what larks! It should be a step in the right direction, but don't they realise "New and Authentic Rocker Tees!" is an oxymoron? And Kmart?

They tried to ban In Utero from sale and now they're selling re-issued Fear of a Black Planet tees? "Don't fight the power! Order today!" Of course, vintage stores are just as guilty of perverting the course of fandom by turning band merch into a commodity rather than a method of communication. One online shop was spotted asking $US10,000 ($A13,000) for a "rare vintage" adidas-brand Run-DMC top - while a rap tragic on eBay with the same shirt just wanted $15 and the knowledge that his tee was going to a good home.

There is no easy solution, except the inevitable and hopefully imminent proper death of the new rock revolution, which will put an end to the need for schmick rock threads.

Until then, I'm confronting each poseur I see in a rock tee with a pop quiz on the artist particular to their T-shirt: hits, misses and birth name. Less than four out of five correct and someone's getting a cotton suppository.

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So there.