One of my local gigs – a failed gym here in town asked me to knock together some t-shirts for sale. Ironically, they were the only thing popular about the place – they couldn’t sell a membership to save their lives. The shirts and three tons of Olympic plates were left behind when the owners zeroed the register and skipped town. The landlord was attempting to set boxes of these t-shirts on fire when I rescued them.
For the discerning gym t-shirt aficionado…laugh at the gym rats wearing a Golds or Bally’s shirt. You had to rescue your t-shirt from a bonfire.