Where do clothing designers and manufacturers find the fabric to make the tags they sew on the backs of their garments? It’s not from Earth.
You know what I mean: Those irritating little tags that tell you the garment’s size, the washing instructions, maybe even where it’s made. Helpful information?
Until it touches your skin.
It’s as if they combine steel wool, burlap, bits of dried hay, and a pinch of broken glass and then grind them all together, and voilà—you’ve got a brand-new, shiny clothing tag, ready for your new shirt or sweater, and ready to irritate the back of your neck like a hive of angry red ants for as long as it’s yours.
And it doesn’t matter whether you buy a $500 blouse at a trendy boutique or a $5 t-shirt at a discount store either. The material for the tags is all the same. It’s possessed. You might as well duct-tape a piece of steel wool directly to your skin for a whole day. How can designers be so cruel with their tags, especially after what we pay for their clothes?
And just like the tags on your mattresses, don’t bother cutting them off. I’ve tried it; it doesn’t matter. The cut-off tag nub will still irritate your skin, laughing at you all the more for your foolishness. Did you really think the irritation would disappear, just from a snip of your scissors?
You’ll scratch the back of your neck or the small of your back like you want to rip off your first layer of skin, at least until the end of the day when you can tear off your shirt, toss it in the washing machine, and hope that soaking it a few hundred times in hot, soapy water will soften the material to somewhere around tolerable.
Good luck with that.
Now I know why people join nudist colonies.
::Writer X also writes at The 100 Most Annoying Things::