I SAW WHAT I SAW.

I’ve had the honor to wear several band uniforms in my day. Even though they were all very different, they all suffered from one fatal flaw— they could all be easily balled up into a sweaty lump and tossed into a car trunk where they would be magically forgotten for weeks.

Then they would mysteriously be remembered around 9pm the night before a competition or performance.

The smell of sweat, car trunk, panic, and spray starch followed me around my entire band career.