In 2005, after Revenge of the Sith revealed young Anakin Skywalker was a whiny child murderer, I wore several Darth Vader t-shirts.
Based on the character’s awesome look and actions in his original 1977 appearance, follow up films and extended universe uses, people saw it and said:
In 1997 after Batman and Robin nearly single handedly destroyed the Superhero movie genre; I wore a Batman Polo shirt to work.
Based on the rest of the character’s varied and popular established history since 1939, people saw it and said:
You can substitute:
“Superman t-shirt to school”
in the above example for the exact same response.
In 1993, after Hal Jordan went crazy, and killed a bunch of allies before destroying the Corps, and becoming a universe threatening villain, I wore my Green Lantern t-shirt. (Well before, he, the Corps, and everyone he killed “got better.”)
Most people said, “Isn’t he the guy who drove around with Bruce Lee?”
Because I wore Green Lantern shirts before Sheldon Cooper made it cool.
The minority with a clue, based on the character’s personification of honesty and fearlessness since being introduced in 1959 saw it and said:
The NY Giants are the only one of the five teams that joined the NFL in 1925, predating Superman by 13 years, to still be an active team.
They have taken eight league championships including four Super Bowl victories.
Only three other teams in the entire NFL have more Super Bowl wins.
They've won eleven conference championships, sixteen division championships and made the playoffs thirty-one times.
Despite their historical past, they were “0 and 6” in the fall of 2013, when I wore my NY Giants polo shirt to work.
The reactions I got were:
“You’re really wearing THAT?”
“Maybe you should pick another team.”
And the ever erudite-