The Verb “Andare” in Its Most Punk and Marche Version
We stole a couple of words from our grandmothers.
It was all Jemo, Jimo, Jamo… and then Polvero.
And if it sounds like the beginning of a punk-dialect ballad — you’ve got the point.
This t-shirt is a lovingly chaotic tribute to the linguistic culture of the Marche, which has always had an explosive and creative relationship with the verb andare (to go).
The phrase illustrated on the t-shirt is loosely inspired by a 90s counterculture cult classic: the famous phrase written by Raymond Pettibon on the cover of Sonic Youth’s album “Goo”.
In our case, no motel, no crime of passion. Just a cheerful dialectal babel in which the verb “andare” shatters into a thousand different sounds:
Jimo.
Jamo.
Gimo.
Gimo.
Gite.
Jite.
Gim.
Gemo.
Gem.
Ite.
Git.
Iti.
Jiti.
Polvero. (And this one we don’t translate: it must be felt.)
Going Without Understanding
Each Other
Imagine someone from Ancona, Macerata, San Giorgio, Ascoli, Fermo, and Pesaro deciding to go somewhere, together.
One suggests: “Jemo?”.
Another replies: “Jimo!”.
Then comes “Jamo!”.
Followed by “Gimo!”.
And finally someone says: “Io so ghià itë!”
Result? Nobody moved.
In the Marche, every town has its own way of conjugating the action, but the result is often… a semantic standstill. A beautiful chaos. A phonetic anarchy that makes the Marche a little Tower of Babel of the verb andare.
A Sentimental Punk with
Dialect Roots
“Jemo, Jimo, Jamo and Polvero” is the title we chose for this t-shirt, but it could also be the name of a punk band from the Marche hinterland.
A band that tours the world and always comes back home. Or maybe not.
Because this t-shirt is not just irony: it is a small manifesto of linguistic identity, a hymn to the sonorous diversity of our land.
A reminder of all the times we took the road — to escape, search, leave — with only a verb in our pocket and the sound of home.
Something that, wherever you go, stays with you like a refrain.
The t-shirt “Jemo, Jimo, Jamo and Polvero” is part of the capsule collection “Lo(w)-cal: Local Chaos Collection” – stories to wear, words to carry far.
