At this point, it would be easy to turn this post into a sociocultural essay on the rebirth of the t-shirt. When it became a form of outerwear and moved away from being an undergarment and how, in doing so, it became a symbol for rebellion; thanks in part to Marlon Brando’s Stanley Kowalski, the birth of teen culture during the growth of America as a superpower, and all that stuff. Instead, let me say this.
A proper white t-shirt is easily the greatest piece of clothing in anyone’s wardrobe. Perfectly suited for dressing up or down. It’s essential, just like an ever dependable, work-horse of a central midfielder; one who can plug holes in a vulnerable defence and then be the spring board for scything counter attacks in a split second. A midfielder who wins the ball, passes it to quicker, flashier team mates and lets them look better. No, that’s not right; he makes them look better. The guy on the team who gives the ball to the one who eventually gets credited with the final assist. In purely footballing terms, putting internet cynicism aside, it is the Javier Mascherano to your Andres Iniesta overshirt, and the sunglasses which are Lionel Messi sticking the ball in the net. It is the guy-behind the guy-behind the guy; subtle, almost invisible, but just as crucial as every other cog in the machine. That’s a proper white t-shirt.
Forgetting the tedious footballing conceit, the quality of the tee is paramount as it adds a finishing air of finesse to an outfit. More importantly however, if it’s of the right level of quality, you’ll forget what it looks like because it just feels fucking brilliant.
Finally, when the material is ethically sourced, grown and produced, the only problem is having enough spending money left to buy food, once you’ve blown the weekly budget on these Optic White tees by Jungmaven.
Okay, I’m off. I need to convince Her that buying more white t-shirts is a good idea and, no, we don’t absolutely have to top up the leccy meter.