I love this shirt. Out of a closet overly full of
this-and-that, it’s what I’d wear every day if I could. Once upon a time, there
was even a song celebrating just such a beloved piece of clothing.
But aside from long-ago pop songs, why is it that I love it
so much?
It’s soft. It feels good against my skin. It makes no
demands in terms of fashion sense. It lets me feel like my normalest self, no
pretension about being something or someone I’m not.
When it came into my life, it was nicely pre-worn. Broken in
and not all like a brand-new thing, too stiff to hold me close the way I want a
shirt to do. And the price was just right: free.
It came from one of my very favourite shops, the free store
on Denman Island (second only to in my list of faves to the free store on Denman’s
next door neighbour, Hornby Island). And how long ago was that? Nearly a decade
ago, I am sure.
Despite the fact that the collar is severely frayed – in danger
of removing itself from the body of the shirt altogether – or that the elbows
are starting to go through, this remains my best and happiest-making piece of clothing.
Time to go shopping for a new shirt? Not on your life.
Especially not with tomorrow being Buy Nothing Day.
For now, I plan to keep wearing my best shirt – as long and as carefully as I can.
