ONGLET OUVERT is ten t-shirts built on one idea: the tabs you cannot bring yourself to close.
Thirty-four tabs
One evening I counted them. Thirty-four tabs open at the same time. A Mandarin course abandoned on day twenty-three. A to-do list three weeks old. An official form never sent. An article about sleep, opened at two in the morning.
Nothing serious. Nothing finished either.
It took me a while to realise this was not a tidiness problem. Those tabs were a list of everything I had started without daring to end. A language, a relationship, a life choice, an argument. We keep them open because closing them would mean deciding.
Ten chapters
I kept ten. Not the most spectacular ones: the most shared. The ones people talk about at two in the morning and never over dinner.
Each chapter is a document, not an illustration. A streak counter frozen at zero. A real handwritten to-do list, crossings-out included. A till receipt issued by the planet. A Venn diagram whose overlap is labelled "us?". An answer sheet with one question and no bubble filled in. A care label written for the person wearing it.
These are objects we see every day without looking at them. Printed large across the back of a shirt, they become readable again.
What the shirt does not do
No logo across the chest. No punchline. No positive message to sell you. The front stays blank, because what is written on the back does not need announcing.
The brand seal goes on the packaging instead. Ten chapters, ten colours, one seal: it is the only thing tying the pieces together.
How it is made
Nothing is printed in advance. Every shirt goes into production after you order, at a partner printer in France, with water-based inks, on heavy 220 gsm organic cotton.
It is slower, and I own that: allow a few days more than a shop shipping from a warehouse. In exchange there are no boxes of unsold shirts and no sizes going to landfill. For a label starting out, it is the only honest way to produce.
The blank shirt itself is not woven in France. I would rather write it down than let you assume otherwise.
Who is writing this
One person, in France, registered as a micro-entreprise. Not a studio, not a marketing team, not a reseller picking from a stock catalogue. All ten designs are original, and the email you send lands in a real inbox, read by the person who drew them.
Chapters open one at a time. If one of them speaks to you, leave your address on it: you will get a message the day it opens, and nothing else.