Preview on the t-shirt (30 × 40 cm chest print area). Pick your town and you will see it with your real data.
1 Pick the design Totality Black disc and blazing corona, with your town, your time and your seconds of dark. A minute of night A typographic poster of the eclipse phases with your exact time in darkness. Baily’s beads The string of light beads round the Moon’s edge, an instant before totality. I survived totality Spiked corona and your time in darkness. Takes a line of your own. The afternoon the Sun went out The eclipsed Sun over a ridge of hills, with your town and your time. Night fell twice The eclipse night and the real one, joined by the path of the shadow. My town in the path The map of Spain with the band of totality and a marker on your town. Team Umbra The crest of those who stood inside the shadow. Takes a line of your own. The path The outline of Spain with the golden band: “I stood in the path”. Corona A minimal solar corona in gold line. Works for any town, in the path or not. My first eclipse Elegant and childlike, with room for a name. Works for any town. Eclipse chaser An expedition badge with a compass rose. Works for any town. Open corona The eclipse corona with no background: the fabric itself is the night sky. Your town in an arc, your time and your seconds of darkness. Takes a line of your own. The sequence The five phases of the eclipse dropping towards the horizon, because the Sun was setting that day. With your time and your duration. The exact time The eclipse time in your town, in big figures. Works for any town, inside the path of totality or outside it. The eclipse glasses The cardboard eclipse glasses with a bitten Sun in each lens. Works for any town, inside the path or outside it. The birds went quiet Three birds on a wire and the line everybody repeats: they went quiet first, then so did we. Works for any town and takes a line of your own. The darkness stopwatch A handheld stopwatch with your seconds of night in the middle, in huge figures. For anyone who likes to show off the number. The light of August The bitten Sun setting over the horizon: the boldest shape in the collection, you can read it from twenty metres away. Works for any town. The diamond ring The last speck of sun before the night, drawn as a jewel: a thin band and a four-point sparkle. With your time and your seconds of dark. It never came out in the photos Pure type inside the corners of a camera viewfinder: “It never came out in the photos. You had to be there”. Works for any town. The shadow timetable A station departure board with the times along the path and, underneath, YOUR STOP: your town with its time and its seconds. “The shadow waits for nobody”. Five minutes The map of Spain with the path hatched and the arrow of the shadow: in over Galicia, out over the Balearics, five minutes end to end. Works for any town. The medal: I was there A medal hanging from the collar of the garment with “I WAS THERE” under it, and your seconds of dark. The one that carries furthest across a room. Observation log An observatory record sheet with your town as the title of the document, the “watched live” stamp and a line for the witness to sign. Works for any town. Baily’s necklace The last rays of sun slipping through the valleys of the Moon, in an arc of light beads. With your time and your seconds of dark. Eclipse club A team arc of letters, “ECLIPSE CLUB” and a solid sun for a crest: the one that looks like a clothing label you have known for years. Works for any town. The lights went out Your town repeated seven times, the ink fading down to totality and coming back: the light curve of that afternoon told with nothing but the name of the place. In grand style Your town in an arc over a big 2026 with sparkles, printed high on the chest. Works for any town and takes a line of your own. The curve of the light The graph of that afternoon: the line of light falls, bottoms out — your minute or so of night, dimensioned like a drawing — and climbs back. The scientific one. The postmark A round postmark with your town along the rim, the time inside and “12 AGO 2026”, small and on the heart side. The discreet one, and it works for any town. The curve of the night The light curve of your town: down, resting on zero all through totality and back up, with the seconds written below. T-shirt only, the garment with no pocket. The plumb line of the shadow The corona up top and a dotted plumb line dropping from it with two dimensions — your time and your seconds — down to the ground, where your town goes. A column that asks for a whole chest. Totality necklace A beaded choker coming down from the neckline, holding the eclipse as a pendant. It is a jewel BEING WORN: it needs a neck above it, and that is why it only comes on the women’s t-shirt. The string of lights that went out A row of fiesta lanterns hanging down: the eclipse phases lit one after another and, at the end of the cable, the black Sun with your time. What you hang up on the 12th of August. The axis of the afternoon A vertical scale of minutes with the eclipse on yours and your town written upright, climbing the axis: turned round it fits whole and big. It looks like an observatory instrument. The Moon ate the Sun The Sun is missing the piece the Moon covered, one clean bite: the only version a five-year-old gets with nobody explaining anything. Works for any town. Ask me about the eclipse The corona crosses the chest from side to side and your time and your duration go written inside the Moon. A seven-year-old asking permission to tell the story. The light curve The light there was in your town in twenty-seven bars, edge to edge; the middle one is missing, and that gap is your seconds of night. Solid ink, which is what fleece holds best. Record of totality The Sun went out over your town at your time and took your seconds to come back, with the time big between two rules running off the sides. Made to cross from one shoulder blade to the other. Class of 2026 A small, quiet stamp on the upper third: class, the year, your town and the time. It reads like a sewn-in label, not like a print. The 12th of August crew The varsity back: your town in an arc over a giant 2026, with your time and your seconds below. Readable from the far end of the street. False dusk The eclipsed Sun right down on the horizon, the way it really looked, with your time big. A wide, low panorama pushed up to leave the kangaroo pocket clear. The Sun left and it turned cold A small emblem high on the chest: during totality the air goes cold all at once, and a hoodie is literally what you had on because of it. The night squad number Your seconds of dark in figures four and a half centimetres tall, with the town above at a fifth of the size, like the name over the number on a team shirt. The eclipse contact sheet The twenty-five frames of the eclipse in a five-by-five grid, with totality right in the middle. A straight grid needs a flat panel: tote bag only. What would not fit in the bag The checklist of the day with its boxes ticked — glasses, binoculars, the picnic, a cloudless sky — and, under the line, the one thing that would not fit inside: the eclipse over your town. The line of totality The path of totality running the whole way round the mug, with your town marked on the line, your time and your seconds. Drawn for the band, which is 2,000 × 800. The eclipse goes all the way round The eclipse phases wrapping the mug from handle to handle: it starts with the whole Sun, goes dark at the front and comes back. Turn the mug and you watch the afternoon go by. The horizon of totality A continuous panorama of hills with the eclipsed Sun over your town, using all two metres of the band that wraps the cylinder. On a poster it would look adrift.