Of shirts and cheese

It’s my favorite shirt.  It’s faded.  It’s nearly worn through in spots.  It was never particularly flattering. It’s a souvenir from a Lukas Nelson show my husband and I caught in Austin, Texas, years ago. And the concert itself was good, but the shirt is so much better. 

Have I mentioned that I love this shirt?  I don’t think you understand quite how much I love it.  I love it so much that, every time I put it on, it makes me a little sad.  That’s right, sad. I’m sad because I know that each time I wear this shirt is one less time I can wear it again before it falls into a beloved tatter. And it will.  Just like the Eagles shirt and the Chris Stapleton shirt before it.  I hold on to these treasures for, some (namely, my husband) would argue, a tad too long.  But once you can stick your fist through a hole in the armpit, even I know it is time to retire the shirt. 

Pinterest will tell you that you can salvage your old shirts by fashioning them into totes, rugs or headbands.  Pinterest is a dirty liar.  My old Eagles shirt would agree. Maybe a craftier soul could successfully convert their concert shirts into some glorious boho headpiece, but not me. 

I don’t know why I love this particular shirt quite as much as I do. I mean, it does check all the boxes.  Soft and comfy?  Check. Black? Check. And…well, those are pretty much my boxes when it comes to clothing choices. I don’t love the shirt as much as I love my children, of course, but it’s right up there with, say, our pet rabbit.  Actually, who are we kidding, I love this shirt way more than the rabbit.  I love it as much as Ted Lasso. And cheese.  And that, my friends, is saying something.

If I’m not feeling well, I look for this shirt.  If I’ve had a long day, I want to slip into this shirt.  I used to wear it solely to bed, like the rest of my unisex T-shirts. You know the ones – the Color Run shirts and the old college tees and the free shirts they handed out at the Brewers game you went to 10 years ago.  

Anyway, the lines between day clothes and night clothes got a little blurry during 2020, and this shirt simply never made it back into the jammy drawer post-lockdown.  Much like I tried to switch back to hard pants when I was released into the world, I tried to put this shirt away.  I just failed at both.  (Did I, though? Is it a failure?  Really? I would venture to say that the fact my favorite shirt is no longer relegated to lazy Sundays and sick days is a win.)

It’s my own personal “lovie” now. My grown-up security blanket. I know this because I have spent precious time that could have been allocated to important pursuits, such as scrolling Facebook, instead searching for Lukas Nelson shirts on eBay, much like I once scoured the internet for a doppelganger for my son’s beloved stuffed dog, Paw Paw. I wanted to be prepared, just in case.  Just in case my son misplaced Paw Paw, just in case my shirt didn’t survive another washing. I wasn’t successful in finding a replacement for either item.  Paw Paw is probably pretty safe now, because he doesn’t get out much these days.  The shirt, well, the shirt is another story. It’s one spin in the dryer away from extinction.

You know you have a shirt like this, too.  It may or may not have holes, but it’s probably not suitable for public display. Nevertheless, as soon as it comes out of the dryer, it automatically goes to the front of your closet (assuming you are a normally functioning adult human being.  If, instead, you are like me, it goes to the top of the pile of clean clothes on the laundry room counter that you swear you mean to hang up but will never actually put away.  Because it’s just easier to get dressed in the laundry room and who really cares.). You have newer shirts, nicer shirts, but it doesn’t matter because they aren’t this shirt.

Or maybe not.  Maybe, for you, it is a holy pair of sweatpants or a decrepit recliner you refuse to part ways with. Why do we hold on to these items?  I couldn’t pretend to know.  What I can tell you, friends, is that I am very glad that live music is back.  I have just realized I need to go find myself a new concert tee pronto, because I have a feeling that there is going to be a hole in my shirt/my wardrobe/my heart one day very soon.  So if it takes putting on hard pants in order to go among the people in search of a concert tee, then I guess that is what I will do.  And that, folks, is love.