The last shirt you'll buy this season.

We bought twelve shirts last year. We wore three. The maths of the modern wardrobe is broken, and most of us are quietly paying for the difference.

This season we ran an experiment: one shirt, chosen with the care you would give a tool you intend to keep. Heavyweight cotton, a collar that holds, seams flat enough to survive a hundred washes. Nothing clever. Everything considered.

Six weeks later it had replaced four others. Not because it was precious, but because it was right — the kind of right you stop noticing, which is the highest compliment a garment can earn.

The lesson was not about shirts. It was about subtraction. Buy the last one first, and the wardrobe maths finally adds up.