You’ve seen them. Those blue rectangles. Honestly, if you’re driving across a few borders in the Midwest or the Northeast, you probably can't tell one from the other. It’s a sea of "S.O.B.s"—Seal on a Bedsheet. That’s the industry term vexillologists (people who study flags) use when they’re being a bit snarky. Most United States state flags are, quite frankly, a design nightmare. They were born in a rush, usually for the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, where states suddenly realized they needed a visual brand. What did they do? They took their state seal, slapped it on blue fabric, and called it a day.
It’s messy. It's confusing. But lately, things are changing fast.
The Great Flag Rebellion of the 2020s
We are living through a flag Renaissance. It’s weirdly high-stakes. In 2024, Minnesota basically nuked its old flag. The previous one was a visual disaster—a crowded seal showing a pioneer plowing a field while a Native American rode off into the sunset. It wasn't just ugly; it was offensive to many. Now? They have a sleek, K-shaped blue background with a white North Star. Some people love the minimalism. Others think it looks like a corporate logo for a regional bank. That’s the thing about United States state flags; everyone has an opinion, and usually, those opinions are loud.
Utah did it too. They ditched the cluttered seal for a bold beehive design. Mississippi replaced the Confederate battle emblem with a magnolia in 2020. This isn't just about aesthetics. It’s about identity. When a flag is good, people actually wear it. Think about Maryland. People there put that yellow-and-black Calvert family crest on everything: socks, crabs, car bumpers, probably their firstborn children. It works because it’s distinctive. It’s not just a seal on a sheet.
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Why the "Good" Flags are Actually Good
What makes a flag work? Ted Kaye, the guy who literally wrote the book on this (Good Flag, Bad Flag), says it’s all about simplicity. You should be able to draw it from memory. A child should be able to draw it. If you have to write the name of the state on the flag—looking at you, Montana and Kansas—you’ve already failed the design test. A flag is a symbol, not a nametag.
Take New Mexico. It’s widely considered the best of the United States state flags. It’s just a red Zia sun symbol on a yellow field. Simple. Meaningful. It respects Indigenous history without being a cluttered mess. Then you have Texas. The Lone Star. It’s iconic because it’s bold. You can see it from a mile away and know exactly where you are. Compare that to Kentucky or Virginia. If the wind isn't blowing perfectly, you’re just looking at a blue rag.
The Weird History of "Seal on a Bedsheet" Designs
Most people don't realize that for a huge chunk of American history, states didn't really care about flags. Regimental flags in the Civil War mattered, sure, but state identity was secondary to national identity. The 1893 World’s Fair changed the game. Suddenly, every state had a pavilion. Every pavilion needed a banner.
Since there was no time to hire a designer, most legislatures just looked at their official stationary. "Just use the seal," they said. It was the easy way out. This led to a historical quirk where nearly half of the United States state flags are almost identical from a distance.
- New York and New Jersey: Almost the same, though Jersey at least went with a buff-colored background.
- Michigan and Pennsylvania: Good luck telling those apart at 60 miles per hour.
- The "Blue Navy": Over 20 states use a dark blue field. It's a visual monoculture.
The Problem with Complexity
Look closely at the seal of a state like Idaho. There’s a woman holding a spear, a miner, a shield, some grain, and a cornucopia. It’s a beautiful piece of art for a coin or a legal document. On a flag fluttering 50 feet in the air? It’s a smudge.
Vexillographers argue that flags should be "high contrast." This is why the South Carolina flag—the Palmetto and the Crescent—is so successful. It’s two colors. Indigo and white. It’s striking. It’s also deeply historical, dating back to the Revolutionary War. It tells a story without needing a single word of text.
The Social Cost of a Bad Flag
Does it actually matter if a flag is ugly? Actually, yeah. In a digital age, a flag is a favicon for a state’s brand. When a flag is well-designed, it fosters "symbolic capital."
Look at Chicago (the city flag, not the state). People in Chicago are obsessed with those four red stars and blue stripes. It’s a point of pride. In contrast, does anyone in Illinois feel a deep, soul-stirring connection to the Illinois state flag? Probably not. It’s an eagle on a rock. It looks like it was designed by a committee that was late for lunch.
When a state has a bad flag, they lose out on millions in "free" marketing. Good flags end up on merchandise, in social media bios, and in street art. Bad flags stay on top of government buildings, ignored by everyone who doesn't work there.
Recent Changes and Future Contenders
The momentum is shifting. After Mississippi and Minnesota, other states are feeling the heat.
- Maine: There’s a massive push to go back to the 1901 flag—the simple pine tree and blue star on a tan background. It’s "retro-cool" and vastly superior to the current seal.
- Illinois: They recently established a commission to look at a redesign. People are tired of the "seal on white."
- Massachusetts: They are re-evaluating their imagery to better reflect the state’s relationship with Native American tribes.
How to Judge a Flag Yourself
Next time you see United States state flags lined up, try this test.
First, squint. Can you still tell which state is which? If not, it’s a bad design.
Second, check for text. If you have to read it, it’s not a symbol; it’s a sign.
Third, look for the "seal." Is it a complex drawing with tiny details? If so, it belongs in a frame, not on a pole.
The best flags—Arizona, New Mexico, Maryland, Texas, South Carolina—all pass these tests. They use a limited color palette. They use meaningful geometry. They don't try to tell the entire history of the state’s agriculture and mining industries in a 3x5 foot space.
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Actionable Insights for Flag Enthusiasts
If you’re a resident of a state with a "Seal on a Bedsheet," you don't have to just live with it.
- Research the 1901 flags: Many states had better designs a century ago.
- Support local vexillology groups: Organizations like the North American Vexillological Association (NAVA) provide resources on how to lobby for better designs.
- Buy the "alternative" designs: Often, local artists create "people's flags" that eventually gain enough traction to become official. That’s essentially what happened in Milwaukee (though that’s a city, the principle remains).
The era of the boring blue flag is dying. We’re moving toward a map that actually looks like a collection of distinct cultures and histories. It’s about time.
Next Steps for the Curious:
Check the official website of the North American Vexillological Association to see how your state ranks in their latest surveys. If your state is in the bottom ten, look up the "original" or "pre-1900" flag of your state; you might find a forgotten masterpiece that deserves a comeback. Finally, if you're in a state currently debating a change, like Maine or Illinois, find the public comment period for their flag commissions—this is one of the few areas of government where a regular person's aesthetic opinion actually carries weight.