Twig and tape. A stick and the roll you fix it with — and if you knew that before you read this sentence, you already know what this is.
Somebody named a brewery after it. TWIG & TAPE BREWING CO. — est. 1974. Sauce served cold. The barn, late ice only. A beer you can't buy, from a company that doesn't exist, drawn the way a label actually was in 1974: two flat spot inks in bone and warm amber, a keyline frame, banner bands top and bottom, a heavy condensed serif, hop sprigs with a pair of sticks crossed in behind. Sauce is a pass. Sauce is also what's in the room afterward. Nobody's going to explain that on the front of a sweatshirt.
Printed on the Gildan 18000 heavy-blend crewneck — thick, warm, and honest about where it's going to live, which is a cold barn at ten at night. Direct-to-garment printed, so the ink sits in the fabric rather than on top of it. Eleven dark colorways: black, dark chocolate, navy, forest green, maroon, dark heather, charcoal, indigo blue, royal, graphite heather and red.
Captains: the brewery is the team name. That's the whole trick, and it's why this is the one the bench will actually wear. It also lands at Christmas, mid-season, when he's in it deepest.
Made to order and printed in about 3–7 business days before it ships. Wash cold, tumble dry low, and skip ironing directly on the print.
If you have to ask what sauce is, this one isn't for you. No hard feelings.
