A seed packet is already a good poster

A botanical drawing of a broad bean — pods split open, roots included — with the variety name above it, a row of twelve month initials with four of them filled in, and a paragraph of small type explaining depth, spacing and when to expect it.

Nobody designed that as merchandise. It's a packet, enlarged.

Why does a seed packet work so well?

Because it was already solving the same problem.

A packet has to identify a plant, say when to sow it, and be legible in a rack from a metre away, on a surface about the size of a playing card. That's a hierarchy problem with a picture, a headline and a data block — which is exactly the structure of a good chest print.

Scale it up and nothing needs rearranging. The drawing is the graphic, the variety name is the type, the sowing row is the detail that rewards a closer look.

What makes it a gift rather than a graphic?

The variety, named.

AQUADULCE isn't a broad bean in general; it's the one that goes in during autumn and stands through the winter. A gardener who grows it reads the name and knows the whole plan the packet is describing. Somebody who doesn't grow it sees a nice drawing of a bean.

That double reading is the same one a contour map gets — precise inside, decorative outside.

Which plant should it be?

The one they actually keep growing.

Gardeners have a variety they return to and one they've been failing at for three seasons. Both are good subjects, and the second is funnier. A tomato they saved seed from, the sweet pea their grandmother grew, the thing that took over the whole bed last year.

An allotment number or a plot name in place of the supplier's name at the bottom turns it from a packet into their packet.

Can it use a real seed company's packet?

Their artwork, name and typography are theirs, so a reproduction isn't available.

Variety names themselves are largely a different matter — most are long-established cultivar names in general use, and a cultivar name is how the plant is identified rather than a brand. Some newer varieties are sold under trademarks, which is worth knowing before printing one large.

Drawn fresh, with an invented supplier name at the base, the whole question goes away.

What about the sowing calendar?

That row of month initials is the part gardeners look at first.

J F M A M J J A S O N D with a few blocked in is a year compressed to twelve characters, and it carries real information: sow here, plant out there, harvest then. It's a small piece of typography doing a lot of work.

It also gives the design a horizontal element under the drawing, which stops the composition being a picture floating on a shirt — a rhythm problem more than a content one.

Does this extend past vegetables?

To anything with a growing habit and a season.

Bulbs, herbs, wildflower mixes, fruit trees with their rootstock codes. Each has its own packet conventions and its own small vocabulary — depth in centimetres, spacing, aspect, full sun.

A herb packet in particular is often just a line drawing and a name, which suits a smaller, quieter print.

Does it print well?

Yes, provided the small type is edited rather than reproduced.

The botanical drawing is line work with hatching, which holds up at chest scale if the hatching is opened out a little — the weave has a floor. The instruction paragraph is the risky element: a real packet's six-point type becomes mush on fabric, so the printed version carries fewer lines, set larger.

Sand, cream, olive and clay grounds all read as paper. Two inks — one for the drawing, one for the red of the beans — is enough.

How do I get one made?

Describe the packet at JustOG — which plant, which variety, and what the sowing row should say. Pick a direction, drag the crop frame, see it composited on the real garment, and it's made to order and shipped.

Designs other people have published are in the shop.

It's a drawing of a plant and a set of instructions for a year. That was always the design.