Even Boise swingers love these fun, nostalgic local shirts, stickers: ‘It’s been crazy’

Artist Kelly Knopp doesn’t begrudge the stream of newcomers who are transforming the Treasure Valley.

He moved to Idaho as a 4-year-old in 1986. From California.

But after decades living in Idaho’s capital city, Knopp does find himself reminiscing about the good ol’ days.

So he and his sister, Heidi Tilby, created a new brand, Boise OG. The line of stickers ($6), hats ($25) and shirts ($28) — sold online at boiseog.com — has been a surprise hit since launching in March.

“It’s been crazy,” says Knopp, 38, who does the artwork and collaborates with Tilby on ideas.

“If you grew up here or moved here in the last 10 years, you have witnessed an urban explosion,” the duo explains on the website. “Boise OG is here to preserve, poke fun at, and celebrate the things, people, and businesses that make Boise so great.”

The Boise OG website is a trip — especially down memory lane. The biggest seller has been “I Survived Camel’s Back Park,” a tribute to the daunting playground equipment that scarred Knopp for life. At least in his mind. “It was scary,” he explains with a laugh, “and it was almost kind of a rite of passage going down some of those slides. They were all just really tall and they were all, like, sheet metal.”

“What’s funny about that sticker is I’ve had so many people personally email me and tell me their horror story or personal injury that they sustained in that park.”

Some designs pay tribute to iconic, now-defunct local businesses: “Hollywood Market” or “Jerry’s 27th Street Market.” Others honor quirky local customs (“Bogus Road Trolls”), acknowledge the state’s regional disparity (“Boise — rural Idaho’s hot friend”) or remind us of downtown’s growing pains (“I saw Boise’s hole”).

One of Boise OG’s hottest designs? A sticker with an image of a pineapple and two words: “Hidden Springs.” It’s a reference to local lore about the planned community. Supposedly, if you saw a pineapple on a house’s porch, the inhabitants were swingers. “We sold so many of those hats and stickers out of the gate, it was nuts,” Knopp says. “So I think they’re embracing it, which is nice.”

There is one possible misfire in the Boise OG collection: A portrait of a newspaper columnist who wrote countless critical music reviews back in the day, and whose insights on Boise living and entertainment are still beloved by all. Pen and ink simply can’t capture his ineffable, real-life good looks. “Deeds sucks!” the sticker proclaims. (What actually sucks is that I won’t see a penny from this collector’s item.) Perhaps Knopp should have traveled back in time to “art night” at Night Moves strip club and practiced drawing more.

Ultimately, the point of Boise OG is to laugh at ourselves. To have a good time pondering years gone by.

And maybe to shed a tear. At least when nobody’s looking.

Because, man, it is tough seeing those nostalgic hats and stickers without feeling bittersweet. Without thinking back to a time when we “tubed” the Boise River on serene afternoons instead of “rafting” it with wall-to-wall crowds. When we knocked back whiskeys and ate finger steaks while bowling at 20th Century Lanes. Remember when the clouds of awful cigarette smoke inside Merritt’s somehow made the scones taste better at 2 a.m.?

Boise OG triggers longing feelings for simpler Idaho times.

“I think it kind of reminds people, ‘Oh yeah, it’s only been 10 years that all these cool spots are gone,’ “ Knopp says. “It’s kind of like a sticker scrapbook of the old.

“But we’re certainly not anti- ‘move here.’ I mean, we can’t be, because we moved here, right? We’re not trying to foster that hatred toward Texans or Californians. It’s more of just, remember the good stuff that made Boise awesome. Or funny or embarrassing!”

This story was originally published May 24, 2021 at 4:00 AM.