The shirt you steal from yourself. The one you've washed a hundred times and it just keeps getting better — we started there and worked backward.

Heavy enough to feel like something, soft enough to sleep in. Not a tissue tee pretending to be a sweater, not a sweater pretending to be casual. The long five-button placket reads as a neckline, not hardware — leave two open and it frames the collarbone. The tall ribbed cuffs push up and stay. The straight hem sits clean. It skims the body without holding on.

The piece that makes everything else in your closet work harder.