Every town has their own dress code. Spring on the high desert plains of Northwestern Nevada demands layer upon layer. I remember the days when true class involved matching everything from the hat to the shoes. Outfits, we called them. Today, the only outfits I see around town keeping a person safe from the frigid morning temperatures in colorful layers.
Along with layering, the quality of the clothing is pretty important. When gardening, clothing takes a beating. The desert sunshine is pretty intense, and a good quality t-shirt might last a season before it fades to a new color. White t-shirts reflect the desert sun, look sharp and were once easy to find.
The REAL men around our town need thick dependable t-shirts that hold their shape and don’t require a second thought before stepping out the door.
Somewhere along the way, many things in life have changed. We’d already visited Costco, only to be stunned at the tiny, thin t-shirts in a package labeled Men’s L. Citified t-shirts arrived on the shelves. Racks and racks of tissue thin men’s t-shirts. Moisture-wicking. Fade-resistant. All the buzz words describing t-shirts until now.
Oy. Vey.
We’ve already endured the renovation of our local Walmart and what seemed like a whole new philosophy on where everything belongs. Last weekend, we found ourselves wandering through the clothing section in search of men’s t-shirts. After a brief search, there they were. Row after row of shirts that looked promising in the packaging. But, soon the truth was revealed. So thin you could practically read a newspaper through it, these shirts were even worse than those at Costco.
The major companies have all joined the same club, now producing the “barely there” collection. Lightweight has become see-through. Comfortable had become questionable. And durability? Well, let’s just say these shirts didn’t look like they planned on sticking around for the long haul.
There in the aisle, holding what used to be a staple of every man’s wardrobe, we had to laugh. Because really… what’s a man to do? Layer up like it’s winter in July? Hope no one notices? Or simply accept that even the humble t-shirt has decided to reinvent itself without asking permission?
It struck me then, in that oddly lit aisle between socks and briefs, that this is the new normal. Nothing stays the same. Not stores. Not seasons. Not even t-shirts. The things we once relied on have shifted beneath our feet. Sometimes for the better. Sometimes… not. Changes in the little things are noticed the most. A shirt that used to feel sturdy now feels flimsy. A store that once made sense now feels like a maze. Familiar comforts slowly trade places with new realities, and we’re left standing there, holding something that looks the same—but isn’t.
Suck it up, buttercup. Smile, nod, and adjust while trying to find the humor. Avoid grumbling and move on. While learning to navigate a new world, accept things as they are even if HANES has changed its corporate mind.
Arriving tomorrow, we’ve ordered heavy weight t-shirts. Although the price for two is the same as the price we used to pay for six, we’re hopeful they’re the ones. They may now hang next to HHH’s formal dress shirts. We certainly won’t take them for granted anymore.
And so, that’s life here on the high desert plains in a town that has only one source for clothing. We’ll continue to enjoy the bright blue desert sky shining down on the gardens of Winterpast. Thank goodness life isn’t all about shopping. Long live Amazon and the beefy cotton Tee.
