A shirt for those suspended between generations of inherited expectations and the vague sense that none of it was ever meant to be this complicated. Your grandfather built something. Your father maintained it. You're supposed to steward it. Instead, you're here, buying a t-shirt about the paralysis of it all.
The fabric is heavy. The cut is simple. It doesn't solve anything, which is precisely the point. You'll wear it to the country club, to therapy, to the weekend house where nobody really talks about what's wrong. It will look good in all these places. This is no longer a compliment.
