The white t-shirt is a wardrobe staple that's actually a $370 existential crisis. Who decided $74 is the going rate? Why is nobody doing the math on the cost?
This past year I began cautiously adding white shirts into my wardrobe, having studiously avoiding them much of my life with full knowledge I magnetize spills to them.
Thereās something about a white tee that both entices and worries me. When I buy them, I then fret when wearing them, particularly to events involving food, most particularly to bar-b-ques of which there are many here in the Midwest.
My strategy which somewhat works (depending on your definition of āworksā) is avoiding all meats drenched in bbq sauce, choosing foods that donāt drip, including salads without dressing, and swirling white wine in my red Solo cup instead of luscious cabernets. When scouting a place to sit and enjoy my meal, I slide into a picnic table slot upwind of other guests, white tee shirt safe should a gust of wind pick up a small paper plate and send it my way.
On my recent trip to France, my new wardrobe color interest (a major shift from virtually all black and grey) was heightened by my dear friend who brought nothing on the trip but white tees, jeans and black leggings.
"It makes everything easy," she explained.
I looked at her white tees hand-drying on the rack off the living room area then glanced toward my bedroom and overstuffed suitcase. My outfits were "mix and match" for the most part but seemed complicated, requiring thought to coordinate.
I couldn't stop thinking about her simple (and much smaller) wardrobe once I got home. "Easy" was definitely the adjective I dreamed of using to describe my life. My obsession with white tops was fueled. It has not let up one iota in the months since I returned.
Yes, there have been spills but I took a different route than an obsession for the perfect āitā tee (with the corresponding perfect āitā price tag) at retail. I scour Goodwill, eBay and thrift shops, looking for 100% cotton not-stretched-out tees with no stains. Iāve managed to stuff my closet with good quality I can replace without deep regrets if stains find their way down the front.
So far Iām ahead in the stains: replacement ratio. All stains (of which there are few, given my hyper-vigilance about food and drinks and inability to simply wear white to any event without thought) have washed out. I'm happy about this for obvious reasons but also that Iāve not had to add cutesy patches or embroidery to camouflage anything--a strategy that seems great in my head but one it is highly unlikely I would ever get around to doing in real life.
Iāll report back on my first full summer wearing white instead of black as my wardrobe go-to after Labor Day rolls around. Thanks for confirming I am fine to indulge my new obsession, Rani!
This past year I began cautiously adding white shirts into my wardrobe, having studiously avoiding them much of my life with full knowledge I magnetize spills to them.
Thereās something about a white tee that both entices and worries me. When I buy them, I then fret when wearing them, particularly to events involving food, most particularly to bar-b-ques of which there are many here in the Midwest.
My strategy which somewhat works (depending on your definition of āworksā) is avoiding all meats drenched in bbq sauce, choosing foods that donāt drip, including salads without dressing, and swirling white wine in my red Solo cup instead of luscious cabernets. When scouting a place to sit and enjoy my meal, I slide into a picnic table slot upwind of other guests, white tee shirt safe should a gust of wind pick up a small paper plate and send it my way.
On my recent trip to France, my new wardrobe color interest (a major shift from virtually all black and grey) was heightened by my dear friend who brought nothing on the trip but white tees, jeans and black leggings.
"It makes everything easy," she explained.
I looked at her white tees hand-drying on the rack off the living room area then glanced toward my bedroom and overstuffed suitcase. My outfits were "mix and match" for the most part but seemed complicated, requiring thought to coordinate.
I couldn't stop thinking about her simple (and much smaller) wardrobe once I got home. "Easy" was definitely the adjective I dreamed of using to describe my life. My obsession with white tops was fueled. It has not let up one iota in the months since I returned.
Yes, there have been spills but I took a different route than an obsession for the perfect āitā tee (with the corresponding perfect āitā price tag) at retail. I scour Goodwill, eBay and thrift shops, looking for 100% cotton not-stretched-out tees with no stains. Iāve managed to stuff my closet with good quality I can replace without deep regrets if stains find their way down the front.
So far Iām ahead in the stains: replacement ratio. All stains (of which there are few, given my hyper-vigilance about food and drinks and inability to simply wear white to any event without thought) have washed out. I'm happy about this for obvious reasons but also that Iāve not had to add cutesy patches or embroidery to camouflage anything--a strategy that seems great in my head but one it is highly unlikely I would ever get around to doing in real life.
Iāll report back on my first full summer wearing white instead of black as my wardrobe go-to after Labor Day rolls around. Thanks for confirming I am fine to indulge my new obsession, Rani!