The Entropy of Comfort
Cotton dies. Eventually.
That is the trade-off. Synthetics are immortal; they hold their shape, repel water, and stay tight until the sun burns them out. They also trap heat and smell like melted plastic after a long day.
This is pure cotton. It breathes. It starts dense and structured, holding a rigid line against the cold, but give it enough years of gravity and wash cycles, and it will inevitably surrender its tension, draping heavier and looser like a second skin that has forgotten how to be stiff.
It will bag out at the elbows. It will relax at the hem.
We could have mixed in Elastane to force it to snap back. We didn't.
We chose the slow decay of comfort over the permanent stiffness of plastic.
0 comentarios