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Most of the products are made of silk and manufactured in China. Many of the designs come straight from the scientists working with the pathogens or structures depicted. The Freemans have made enough of a name for themselves that researchers now routinely send them digital images of disease slides, eager to see them integrated into fashion. An artist might then tweak the colors or spacing of the patterns. “The West Nile virus came from Purdue,” says Freeman. “They were the first to identify it. Their only request was we do it in Purdue colors, which killed me because I went to Northwestern.”
While the bulk of sales are online, Infectious Awareables are sold in a few select retail outlets, such as university bookstores, science museums, and the gift shop at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta. Freeman says he’s careful to choose shops so that the products don’t offend—most reflect serious diseases, after all—and get taken out of context. But evidently, the humor does translate across borders. “We had some Chinese people come in about a month and a half ago,” reports Charlie Harkleroad, manager of the CDC shop. “They almost cleaned our entire stock out.”
As a resident of California—where shorts and flip-flops are acceptable business attire at many companies—Freeman doesn’t get much opportunity to wear his ties, he says. But pressed to pick his favorite, he chooses pneumonia, with its subtle two-toned pattern: “It’s very quiet, understated. You could wear it with a blue suit. You could wear it to a funeral if you wanted.”The all-time best seller is the tuberculosis tie, crawling with dozens of blob-shaped Mycobacterium tuberculosis bacteria, which was one of the earliest products. The plague, available with the lethal Yersiniapestis pathogen stained in red against a midnight background or stained in gold against navy, is a close second. He considers the mold fungi tie, with its wispy flower-like shapes in cornflower blue and olive green, the most beautiful. “It’s gorgeous,” he says. “It’s a work of art. We’ve had people approach us to do this as actual artwork.”
Of course, perhaps one of the odd twists about what the Freemans do is that what’s a calamity for most of the world can actually be darn good for business. In short, scary headlines often boost sales. The anthrax attacks in 2001 and the recent spread of MRSA, the antibiotic-resistant “superbug,” both drove orders higher. The latest topical afflictions he wants to convert into fashion? Sleep disorders and climate change.
One disappointment was the Parkinson’s tie, which he sent to the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s Research. “They loved it,” he says. “But for political reasons they couldn’t do anything with it. It just never resonated.”
Another dud was a tie modeled on Mydoom, one of the fastest-spreading computer viruses of recent time. “I thought we were going to sell a kajillion,” he recalls. “But who knew that geeks don’t wear ties. I’ve got 500 Mydoom ties sitting around here.”
