A week or two ago I bought a black Kooples T-shirt — easily the greatest T-shirt I’ve ever worn in my life. Great fibre, fits beautifully and has a two-button, leather-banded collar. It’s really heaven. I put it on and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror this morning and just sighed — it’ll never get any better than this. Except it cost over $125, which is three times more expensive than any other T-shirt I’ve even thought about buying. (There’s a long-sleeve version that costs $250.) I love this T-shirt so much that I’m almost afraid to wear it. I don’t want to wear it out or risk spilling coffee on it or something. It’s the same principle as the middle-aged wife in Astoria who buys a couch that’s so beautiful and so expensive that she covers it with see-through plastic and tells everyone to sit somewhere else. On top of which having my Kooples T-shirt dry-cleaned costs $8 at Holloway Cleaners (the owner said they have to take extra care because of the leather collar). It’s a responsibility, this shirt.

Note: The Donovan song has, of course, been linked to ironically.