A Flannel Shirt That Has Been Washed 200 Times. The Softest Piece of Clothing I Own.
Old flannel gets soft. New flannel is stiff. This shirt cost eight dollars at a thrift store. I almost threw it away. Now it’s the softest thing I own. Elbows are thin. Wind cuts through. But no holes. Good fabric lasts. Bad fabric doesn’t.
I almost threw this shirt away.
About five years ago I bought it at a thrift store. Eight dollars. Faded red and black plaid. Tag was worn off so I don't even know the brand. Fit a little big.
First wash was fine. Tenth wash it started getting soft. Fiftieth wash the edges started fraying. Hundredth wash the collar got that rolled look I actually like.
Now I've washed it maybe two hundred times. Maybe more. I don't keep count exactly. But I've worn it every fall and winter since I found it.
Why It's So Good
New flannel is stiff. Feels like cardboard. Takes about twenty washes just to become wearable. Most people give up before that.
This shirt is past all that. The fabric isn't fabric anymore. It's more like heavy cotton tissue. It drapes instead of stands up. The buttons are worn smooth. The cuffs have thin spots.
But nothing has ripped. No holes. The seams are still tight.
I don't know how. Cheap flannel usually falls apart after fifty washes. This one just keeps going. Maybe it's the fabric weight. Maybe I just got lucky.
The Weird Part
It doesn't keep me warm anymore. Too worn. Wind cuts right through. But I wear it around the house. Over a t-shirt. Under a jacket. Never by itself outside in winter.
Maya steals it sometimes. Says it smells like me and the garage. I think that's sweet. Also a little gross.
What I Learned
Good fabric gets better with use. Bad fabric dies.
This shirt wasn't expensive. Eight dollars. But someone made it right. The thread count is decent. The stitching is straight. The cotton wasn't cheap crap.
You can't tell at the store. You can't tell from a brand name. You only know after a hundred washes.
That's the problem with buying clothes today. Everything looks fine new. The bad stuff falls apart. The good stuff stays.
One Thing I'd Change
The elbows are thin. Really thin. I should have patched them two years ago. Now I'm worried it's too late. One wrong move and my elbow goes through.
I keep meaning to fix it. Probably patch it with some old denim. Been saying that for six months.
Maybe next week.
Bottom Line
This is the softest thing I own. Not because it's fancy. Because it's old. Two hundred washes old.
I don't know the brand. I can't tell you where to buy one. But I can tell you this—wear your clothes. Wash them. Wear them again. The good ones will let you know.