Just Peel It Already.
A Nod to Stickers
I wear graphic tees because it is easier to sport a character than explain myself to the world.
Who cares that I am a 32-year-old man with a Gyarados plastered on my chest? Earl and I recently attended a Chuck Klosterman talk where he stated, “The heroes we have when we’re 8 years old end up being the heroes we have for the rest of our lives.” I can’t exactly say I disagree. If a dual-type water/flying dragon Pokémon with no appendages can help me save Kanto when I played Gameboy Color on road trips in 2002, then it sure as hell can get me through a 4 pm standup meeting on a Friday without using “Self-Destruct” on my coworker to end the pain.
Stickers and water bottles and things
There is a white cooler in my garage half-wrapped in stickers that I hope to eventually cover, like one of those dirt-splattered off-road SUVs with a three-inch lift and Thule roof rack, its rear window littered with bumper stickers. I always try to read as many of them as I safely can in the time that I have, but know it is a hopeless cause. The driver must, too.
To me, stickers are the coolest tchotchkes. The most useful souvenirs that cost $5 or less but bring recurring joy, as I stumble across them far more often than I would a coffee table book or hand towel set.
And I am the ultimate rube if anyone slips in a free sticker alongside a purchase. I’ll rep almost anything (okay, maybe not anything). And the more, the better—bonus points if I’ll forget what the sticker represents within a month.
For as relevant and CJ-coded some of the stickers on my cooler, water bottles, and laptops are, as many are there just because they found their way into my hand, and my hand feels gift guilt about stickers littering the junk yard when they could be littering my accessories.
“You don’t put a bumper sticker on a Ferrari.”
It’s not like the car doesn’t have decals already. I didn’t realize that stickers made depreciating assets, well, depreciate. Maybe on a collectible I’m more prone to agree. But there’s less chance I have a Ferrari and treat it like a collectible than a middle-aged dad in jorts and white Air Monarchs in front of me at the café makes a joke about the barista’s tattoos as I slyly pull my shirt sleeves down to cover mine.
When shopping online—for frames, vinyl records, books, whatever—I often filter search results. And if another product labeled as “new” comes with a sticker on it, I’m going to lose my shit.
Which brings me to another point that has been on my mind for years: booksellers need to stop using cheap stickers. I’ll unwrap a used book, and the $6 novel has a $.01 sticker that will never, I repeat, never come off cleanly. And my anxious ass will peel, rub, scratch, and wipe the nasties away until the cover itself is shredded. A book with scars is a book with no more price tag, no more “Thriftbooks” branding, no more USP barcode. And don’t get me started on former library books1.
It may be hard to tell, but I actually love stickers. Just not on physical media, I ask, pretty please, sticker consent is sexy.
As far as those I do peel, some become an expression of personality, and some don’t. Some I remember where they came from—the brands, artists, or designs—others, I do not. And as much as one sees a water bottle full of stickers and is led to believe that it becomes a conversation starter out in the wild, it really doesn’t. I don’t think many care. I occasionally feel obligated to comment on someone’s laptop stickers or backpack keychains, but honestly, most of the time I don’t have the energy, nor do I want to come off as some creep trying to start a conversation with whatever anchor point onto which I can latch.
My blank white cooler was pretty, but soulless. I’m not a designer, nor a visual artist. The random smattering of stickers that made their way onto the cold capsule does not follow any geometrical theory or artistic concept2. I might as well be the Flex Tape guy—slap that baby on there and let’s ride.
$uicideboy$ next to the Cotopaxi llama? Trill. The state of Montana bordering a reptile feed company? Rad. Marvin the Martian blowing smoke from the end of his ray gun? That’s the one!
“Buy it.”
–the Devil on my shoulder, Voice in my head
Stickers are less permanent than tattoos and more socially acceptable to stare at while daydreaming.
“Excuse me, can you please stop staring at me. Weirdo.”
“Oh, sorry, it’s just that your 2016 Feel The Bern sticker is making me feel old. What the hell even happened, dude?”
Recently I’ve heard from others on their specific use cases: stickerbooks as time capsules, on laptops to flex while out in the wild in cafés and libraries, as markers of traveled destinations3, on skateboards because, let’s be honest, a blank deck is kind of boof, covering up brand names because hell yeah that’s punk rock, on bulletin boards, inside windows, on boxes, underneath desks, or over walls.
Where there’s a flat surface, there’s a future sticker waiting to be placed.
What about digital stickers?
The Japanese messaging app Line first started using digital stickers in 2011 with its introduction of LINE FRIENDS4, allowing users to personalize messages and reactions in ways only then possible IRL. Examples of digital stickers that followed include Hello Kitty, Snoopy, Toy Story, and Doraemon5. It was not until 2016 that the iPhone added digital stickers to iMessages—ironic considering their iconic marketing strategy of including Apple stickers with their products from the late 1970s on6. Digital stickers are now a given in the social environment, producing much less plastic but also, in my humble opinion, less staying power.
They’re a blast to crop unfortunate photographs of your friends to reuse as reactions in group chats with them over and over again, but when did I become so evil? The prophecy said that I would destroy the cyber bullies, not join them.
Not all stickers are created equal
There is a thrift mall near my house with dozens of vendors selling used and vintage items. Somehow, I always find myself browsing the sticker stand, a business whose products one does not usually associate with a used marketplace. Why then do I often leave the mall with a haul from, of all the possible vendors, that one?
Maybe it’s the price point. Stickers are relatively cheap after all—like really cheap. Or maybe it’s a commitment thing. Because of the low price, I don’t feel the need to love what I’m buying. The simple novelty suffices. Though I may find commitment issues when it comes to me deciding where and when that sticker finds a home.
Stickers can be political, they can be deafening, they can rebel, they can be an exhibition, they can be vandalism, they can, literally, “stick it to the man.” I invite you to mention the culture of sticker bombing in a casual conversation and see where it goes. In Portland—or any city, really—take a walk on a busy street, and you’ll see stickers on stop signs, on mailboxes, in windows, and on underpasses. Little breadcrumbs of the underground that cost a few dollars to place but hundreds, or even thousands, to remove. And if removed, there will likely be another one there later that same day—why even try to regulate?
Commonly, stickers fill up a child-like want for cute art, succinct sayings, animated versions of us yearning for expression, political markers, or my favorite, self-aware humorous quips. One I recently saw pretty much sums up adult life for me so far:
“Please don’t honk at me, I’m trying my best.”
But mostly, the dang crooks who don’t accurately label product pages as such.
Much less the intense preparation and execution of “How to Sticker Your Laptop: Dos, Don’ts, and Best Practices.”
The National Park stickers are one of my favorite sticker “themes.” Their branding is on point.
LINE FRIENDS was invented by a South Korean designer, Kang Byeong Mok. I’m sure there’s a Japanese colonization joke here somewhere.
In 2023, Meta introduced AI-generated stickers into their Instagram and Facebook ecosystems, inspiring, of course, the worst, or weirdest, possible universe: users prompting AI to spit out stickers of Shrek pregnant, Elmo with a knife, Karl Marx with nipple tassels on his large breasts, and Mickey Mouse taking a shit, among others. I’ll never discount the creativity of the crowd.
Apple quietly ended their sticker tradition in 2024, citing environmental goals. I quietly call 🧢. This is the same reasoning that led them to stop including chargers and headphones with their devices. Yoo Apple, quit being cheap!
Round Mountain Spirit Stickers when