cotton t-shirts

Hubby and I love our cotton t-shirts literally to their death. There is something about a perfect soft well-worn, broken-in t shirt that beats any other garment in our drawer. I am not always sure at the time of buying a souvenir shirt what that magical 'it' quality is that will be revealed slowly over time to make the ideal shirt. It is not obvious at first. Only a hundred wearings and washings will show which is our favorite. We wear our favorites faithfully every week until they perforate, pit-seams rip, and the decal is illegible. And then we wear them some more. We wear them until they give out. Until one can read print through them. Until we are just too ashamed to be seen by each other in them. And only then do we grudgingly give them up. With a sigh that seems to say...I remember not when you were new, but when you were whole and I could read where I bought you, and you didn't embarrass me, but that was a long time ago. "I wish I had gotten two of you," I have thought on many occasions.
They are not all the same brand. They are not all the same fit and size. They are from here there and anywhere in my travelling history. They must be not too tight. They must be not too loose. They must not be too short. They must not have stitching, only an iron-on. The iron-on must not be too big, nor too stiff, nor sticky, perhaps the best ones are screen printed and the location is right in the fabric. They must not be too heavy to start with or they are too hot to wear often. They must not be too thin to start with or they wear out before they start being great.
I think I have this formula in purchasing a shirt. I will think to myself, "this has all the qualities I am looking for". Alas, there will be no dressing room in the outdoor markets, booths, or touristy shops for trying it on. I will get it home and try to wear it lovingly, faithfully. And I will fail. Or it will fail me. It will be too hot (deadly sin in the south). It will be too dense and won't breathe. It will have too long of a sleeve and my arms will be hot. It will be too tight in the chest. It will shrink. The neck-hole will strangle me. The decal will be too hot either in the front on my ample bosom or on my back. It will fit weird, and be too tight on my hips. Sometimes its just the wrong color. It might even be too long. I have a stack of shirts that I wish I could love from places I enjoyed going. But the touch of any of these on my skin makes me itch, yank, pull, chafe, sweat, and swear in vain. I will continue to loath their touch, and no amount of washing, wearing or even stretching and sewing will turn them into a favorite.
I can't predict which ones I will love and which ones I will continue to re-stack in my shirt drawer, shifting them around, only wearing them on laundry day, shedding them as soon as my beloved shirt is clean and dry.
Last year I returned to the place I got one of my favorites seven years before. They didn't have the same ones. Even if they did...would it have worked out just as well? So I continue the search for new ones - future favorites. I continue to mourn the passing of a favorite. I continue to revile those who failed to please.