That's what I've wanted for some time.
My T-shirt collection has somehow dwindled to three: a supremely comfortable light grey race T-shirt from a local Pepsi 10-K race, perhaps four years old; a bright orange, not-comfortable University of Virginia shirt (not comfortable because the cotton's too heavy); and a black, coming-apart-at-the-seams, maybe eight-years-old, wonderfully soft shirt from a now-defunct in-line skate company that says, "Leave your shoes on" (their product, which sadly never caught on, was in-line skates that you attached to your street shoes).
I never buy T-shirts because invariably they become unwearably uncomfortable after a wash or two, changing shape unpredictably and what-have-you.
Rather, I simply use the ones I get at various events like road races and skate races, discarding the uncomfortable ones into my junk pile, for use cleaning the oven and suchlike, and reserving the rare comfy ones for my everyday use.
Which is not to say I actually dress up to the extent of requiring a T-shirt daily.
Most days are happily spent here at home in my PJs, which consist of ultra-soft and worn OR scrub tops and bottoms - cut off just above the knee - stolen from hospitals I've worked in all over the country.
I have a lifetime supply - literally.
I have closets with hundreds of tops and bottoms, folded and stacked, ready to carry me late into this century in cashmere-soft cotton. But I digress.
When I saw, in last Tuesday's Wall Street Journal, that the paper's "Cranky Consumer" column, by Suein Hwang - one of the paper's better writers - was headlined "Finding the Right White T-Shirt," I knew I was gonna soon have the information I wanted and needed to resupply my T-shirt larder.
The paper collected 20+ T-shirts from various manufacturers, and convened a panel of fashion experts to judge them.
Then they narrowed the group down to four finalists: the hip, $45 C&C California; the $40 Juicy Couture; the $16.50 Banana Republic; and the $15 Classic Girl.
The winner: Banana Republic.
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