My favourite shirt has died. I loved that shirt. Unlike everything and everyone else, It never let me down.
It was white cotton with a large scale, single thread chocolate brown check. It was very soft and had a pleasing crumpled look when you wore it - ironed beautifully and had a perfect shape. I managed to make me look the shape I think I was supposed to look before they ran out of muscles. I could wear that shirt anywhere and I felt comfortable, secure and confident. I think it's the only shirt I've ever pulled in.
I knew it was getting tired and I was pushing my luck trying to get one more summer out of it. The collar was starting to wear and repeated washings had rendered it increasingly limp and thin. Finally - I put it on yesterday and realised that all the seams were starting to fall apart - it literally began to crumble in my hands - like the scene from 'Time Machine' where Rod Taylor picks up a book and it crumbles in his hands. I am bereft.
5 comments:
Give it a proper burial!
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