the complex world of T-shirts

One of the last times I went shopping for clothes I ended up at the Tip Top in the benighted Cornwall Centre. The salesman was a tall guy with dark greasy hair and a stiff suit. After I tried on a couple of shirts and decided that both were just fine, he leaned forward (which, given our difference in height, meant that he actually leaned over me) and said, "How's your T-shirt situation?"



I was floored. I didn't know T-shirts got involved in situations. I didn't know the lives of T-shirts could ever be so rich as to warrant situations. I wanted to say: Buddy, my T-shirt situation is a disaster. The Stanfield V-Neck won't talk to the Gap XS Crew Neck, the old Motorhead shirt snuck into the underwear drawer, and my Zig-Zag T-shirt got arrested for smoking up in the park. I am a broken man on account of my willful polycotton blenders.



Instead I said: "My T-shirt situation?"



"Of course," he nodded. "For layering".



Oh right. Layering. Otherwise I'm a laughingstock, a fashion victim who couldn't even get it right at Tip Top. I bought two, both size small - after all, even if they're tight, I'm layering here - in reliable black and daring aquamarine. I hope the aquamarine gets along with the Motorhead.