A grid of worn shirts floats against a deep green field, each one carrying its own history. No bodies, no faces—just the uniforms of lives lived loud and hard. The paint is rough, layered, imperfect, like memory itself. Every shirt feels earned.
Rodeo Wardrobe is about identity through repetition. The same shape, over and over, altered by time, sweat, and choice. These aren’t costumes; they’re markers. Nights under arena lights, long drives home, dust in the cuffs, pride stitched into the seams. Some are bold, some restrained, some nearly spent—but none are clean.
Together, the shirts read like a catalog of character. A quiet archive of Western lives where style isn’t fashion—it’s proof you showed up.

Interest-free.