A t-shirt’s just a t-shirt, right? It’s same old, same old. Wear under a sweater, wear under a jacket, throw it on in the morning, sleep in it or strip it off at night. Big one, little one, old one, soft one. Just pull it over your head, let’s not make a huge thing about it. I mean, a burger is a burger. A flat is a flat. A margarita is a margarita.
Woah there. Let’s just stop and have a think about this. When you’re ten, correct, a t-shirt is just a t-shirt, but when you’re as old as me this is very much not the case. In fact, this is a matter of priorities. The stuff we wear all the time is where we need to focus. These are the items that deserve our love and attention. The black-tie event, the fancy dinner – please let’s worry about those outfits less. Don’t save up and splurge on a bejewelled blazer you’re going to wear once a year – instead, let’s spend our time throwing our whole hearts into, yes, finding the perfect t-shirt.
A great t-shirt and pair of jeans is genuinely the answer to a fantastic weekend. You’re battling with the self-service till at Tesco – I just want two lemons and some gum, why have I set off the alarm and need assistance again? Or, ‘Mum, I know it’s Sunday but I totally forgot I have to make a Tudor street scene using only pasta. Shall we start now?’ Both of these situations are made better if you’re in a butter-soft, great fitting t-shirt. We can tackle anything if we’re comfy. Silly me, I have worked out the till, please ignore my stupidity. Course we can baby, pass me the penne.
Firstly, the length has to be perfect. Too short and it’s nerve-wracking moving too much. Need that tin of tuna on the top shelf? I’m terribly sorry but I simply can’t get it. That would mean lifting my arm up as far as it can go and I’ve got tufts, an acre of stretch marks and, as of late, my stomach skin seems to be made entirely of tissue paper. If I get the tuna all of this will be on show and, I promise, once seen you can’t unsee it. Do you remember Jabba the Hutt? Precisely.
Too long and wow, you’ve got short legs! Or worse, something to hide. Trying to cover your bum? Worried about your lack of belt? Wanna look like E.T.? Why are you dressed like a teenage skater boy? You seem to be on the verge of tying a sweatshirt round your waist and we can no longer do that as we’re grown-ups. (And on the subject of grown-ups, anything asymmetric smacks of a midlife crisis or a terrible washing machine shrinking error. A handkerchief hem is only fine if you’re pregnant. If you’re not growing a human life inside you then your t-shirt has to be the same length all the way round.)
It also has to be soft. In the 90s, scratchy was fine. Hey, this mint green super-coarse jumper is fake mohair but it’s cool so I’m going to wear it for twelve months straight until I have a rash over most of my body. But who cares? Darren from round the corner likes it and that’s just more important right now. We wore tickly and lumpy fabric for years without realising that there were other options. We were more interested in the colour (I’m going to throw in the memory of tie dye here) and in the (dear god) slogan on the front. Can I just confirm that wearing clothing bearing the words ‘daddy’s princess’ or ‘I believe in unicorns’ stops at thirteen. This is non-negotiable.
The perfect t-shirt then is made out of something called modal (no idea either but trust me, softer than a kitten’s stomach) and it’s navy or black or grey (or white, if you’re happy with your abdominal muscles and bra choice) and it has either a snug round neck or a loose V (never a square or boat neck – that’s an actual order). Please nothing with miniature buttons.
Has everyone followed that? Are we all in agreement? So now that’s out of the way, while we’re here, maybe a flat is just a flat but we all know a margarita is not just a margarita and a burger is never just a burger. It has to be, respectively, on the rocks with salt, extra lime juice and it has to be from Five Guys. The End.