Slogan Tees Are Back, Baby
When fashion speaks, who’s really talking?
Hot Takes are my bullet point thoughts on fashion's hottest issues. These posts get to the heart of why people are talking about what they’re talking about, what this means, and where this could go next.
Let’s set the scene.
In the age of algorithmic unrest, where culture wars unfold with meme-speed intensity and where silence, as they say, is political, the T-shirt — that humble, cotton-blend staple — has returned to its former life as a wearable megaphone.
You’ve likely seen it: stark white, boxy, minimal. Across the chest, in crisp black text, it reads “PROTECT THE DOLLS.” Worn by Troye Sivan. Worn by Pedro Pascal. Worn by Haider Ackermann, if you needed a high-fashion co-sign. And designed by Conner Ives, the New York-born, London-based designer whose work often speaks louder than runway soundtracks.
But this isn’t just another merch moment or celebrity-endorsed capsule. Ives's tee is emblematic of a wider fashion revival — the reemergence of the slogan T-shirt as a frontline tool of cultural resistance.
We’ve been here before.
Vivienne Westwood, Queen of Punk, was never afraid to let her clothes do the talking. And boy oh boy, did her slogan T-shirts have a lot to say. From her “DESTROY” 1977 tee to her 2005 design stating “I AM NOT A TERRORIST, please don’t arrest me”, these items were an obvious way to say what you wanted to say with your chest — literally and figuratively.
In the ‘80s, Katharine Hamnett strode into an event celebrating London fashion week at 10 Downing Street with then Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the words: “58% DON’T WANT PERSHING” in all caps — a sartorial protest against nuclear weapons.
And in 2017, Dior sent models down the runway in tees reading “WE SHOULD ALL BE FEMINISTS,” plucking from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s lexicon and pitching feminism into the Instagram spotlight.
But where those earlier slogan tees were often aesthetic declarations of principle — feminist, anti-nuke, punk — "PROTECT THE DOLLS" feels raw, urgent, and disarmingly tender. It’s not just a message; it’s a plea. And it’s time we listened.
Wear Your Heart (and Politics) on Your Sleeve
In Ives’s own words, the slogan is “a love letter to the trans community.” The “dolls” here aren’t metaphorical, they are real people facing real harm in a time of escalating legislative violence and social marginalisation. And while the runway may be awash with quiet luxury, Ives reminds us that sometimes, what fashion needs is not a whisper, but a shout.
What’s striking is how the message moves. Not just across runways or storefronts, but across bodies. Pascal, the internet’s daddy-in-chief, wearing the shirt at a moment when trans rights are being politically scapegoated, reshapes the narrative of allyship. Troye Sivan, a queer icon for Gen Z, amplifies the shirt’s urgency within his community.
Harris Dickinson made his directorial debut at the Cannes Film Festival with Urchin, a gritty, heartfelt tale of a homeless Londoner striving to break free from addiction and reclaim his life. Dickinson showed up in a T-shirt that did the talking before the film even rolled: the front read, “Living on the streets is not a lifestyle choice, Suella”, while the back delivered the knockout punch — “It’s a sign of failed government policy.”
It’s not just about who wears a slogan T-shirt. It’s about how and when they wear it. Slogan T-shirts democratize protest, and they play on social commentary. They don’t require couture credentials, just conviction. Anyone can wear one. Which is precisely what makes them powerful.
Fashion or Facade? Wearable Words, Tangible Impact
The return of the slogan tee also invites more complicated questions: can fashion be activist without becoming performative? Is wearing a message enough? Or does it risk reducing protest to print? Today, in the curated glare of big socials, seemingly earnest slogans can backfire fast. What once felt radical now risks coming off as a branding exercise.
The answer, perhaps, lies in intentionality and in who benefits. As of April 2025, when production, shipping, and order fulfilment costs have been taken into account, Ives has donated over $70,000 from sales of his slogan tee to Trans Lifeline, a US-based, trans-led nonprofit organisation. The shirt wasn’t a branding exercise; it was a funding mechanism. It’s clothing as a conduit.
At Paris Fashion Week AW25, Willy Chavarria wore a T-shirt created in partnership with Tinder and the Human Rights Campaign. Dressed in black with the words “How we love is who we are” across his chest, Chavarria stood firm against global anti-LGBTQ+ legislation. Meanwhile, over at London Fashion Week, Ashish filled his runway with slogan-soaked protest wear: a cardboard sign warned “The end is near,” a hoodie declared “slut for socialism,” and a sequin top insisted on “wow what a shit show.”
At its best, fashion doesn’t just mirror culture, it provokes it. The slogan T-shirt, in its resurgence, is proof of that. It flattens the hierarchy between the runway and the street, the celebrity and the civilian. It doesn’t just ask you to look. It asks you to read. To think. To choose a side.
My two cents.
As culture fractures and political binaries harden, we’re witnessing a style shift. In an era of influencer fatigue, where activism can feel more like branding than belief, slogan T-shirts cut through the noise.
The most radical thing fashion can do today might not be to innovate a silhouette or revive a trend, but to insist, again and again, on visibility. To say, in Helvetica bold, “I’m with you.” And to mean it.
Patricio Campillo explored this as he closed his AW25 show with a wink, a statement, and a bit of geopolitical spice. Inspired by his Mexican heritage, Campillo stepped out in a T-shirt with the words “El Golfo de México” — a not-so-subtle clapback delivered just two weeks after Trump floated the idea of renaming it the “Gulf of America.” It was heritage as protest, fashion with a counterpunch.
Meanwhile, Stella McCartney swapped out subtlety for sass with the release of a white tank top that reads, in giant unapologetic lettering: “MOTHER FUCKER.” Already spotted on Dua Lipa, the tank taps into a kind of radical cheek — equal parts maternal, militant, and meme-ready. Or maybe we’re just over being hushed, and we're ready to stand on business.
In that sense, slogan tees are more than just T-shirts. They’re a thesis. A reminder that behind every trend, there are lives. That fashion can still be a vehicle for something more, something greater. And that sometimes, the simplest garment can be the most revolutionary.
To most, a slogan T-shirt is just another item of clothing.
But for some, it might be the most important thing they wear all year.
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