When it comes to SuicideBoys Merch, we are talking about standard issue uniforms that are tested for true functioning in the battlefield-like space of a concert. In the hours before a $uicideBoy$ show, an electric atmosphere courses through the air. They are absolutely ubiquitous: grey, black, and white hoodies mashing into one large mass, heading for some random venue. It is indeed a tribal congregation, a gathering of minds who have spoken over years through lyricism and comment boxes that now coalesce into the same human frame. Putting on that hoodie is more than just a throwaway moment; that is your secondary armor for the night, an emblem of honor, a rite that is very much a part of the hot, sweaty, and cathartic labor now awaiting.
A G*59 hoodie travels through all life-cycle stages from the long line outside to the deafening exit chilling with memories of the late-night hop.
Prelude: Bonding in the Line
Enacting Hours: Before the Doors Open
The people, your people-who-for some reason, from one time to another-were putting on different styles of hoodies; the living timeline of the duo’s career. You just might perhaps want to nod your head at a hoodie-wearer attending one of the tours you also went to, or perhaps you want to compliment some very rare piece some stranger is wearing that you have only ever seen online. And just like that, all the conversations come easy because there is something already rare they share: stamped on their chests.
That moment of sharing-so almost like backing a team from the dawn before a major sports’s game to tailgate, but it’s going to be a somewhat darker, more intimate vibe. The same thing brought them all together, unified in the same sound, enjoying life; their clothing is their flag. Now, the anticipation starts to build as that hoodie keeps you warm against the evening air and provides some comfort from the electric energy soon to unfold inside.
The Storm: Catharsis in the Pit
The experiences being of a really ephemeral nature will be sucked away by the bass lines dropping and the crowd surges. It is showered with sweat to mix with shoves and grabs, at least qualifying it as one more member in the swirling moshpit. That is the first gasp when this really gets dirtied. By then, it ceases to be a nice fashion article and is simply there to be worn and treated to some dirt.
Unleash a raw, primal release by screaming the lyrics to “$outh $ide $uicide” at the top of your voice with thousands marking that instance in time together, clad all in the same colors. The artist said that this would be the metaphor encompassing that release from the hoodie: the physical energy of something — chaotic, passionate, and unapologetically intense. Suddenly, you are not just someone in a hoodie: you are a Cassandra cell pulsating with a thousand other souls.
The Aftermath: Downpour of Memory
The hoodie feels different after the last encore. Walking out into the nighttime, with ears ringing and a sore throat, the hoodie now feels heavier with sweat, smelling smoky and a bit of that venue. It ceases being just SuicideBoys Hoodie; it has turned into a relic.
Getting back to that hangout spot in the next couple of days, wearing that hoodie gets one flashing back to that evening. Later on, the sweat stains and smells become souvenirs. Now, that hoodie carries the energy of the crowd, the rumbling bass, and the memory of being there along with the creators of the show, Ruby and Scrim, making it a trophy, a diary entry, and a time machine to boot. This is your evidence of being there, flesh and blood, in the subterranean community that is sustaining the G*59 empire, living and breathing the music that defines you.
