I’ve been chasing The Perfect White T-shirt for as long as I can remember. Open up my bedroom dresser and you won’t see a rainbow of haphazard socks and undies—you’ll see a rolodex of white tees, folded neatly and propped upright like a filing cabinet, à la Marie Kondo. Sadly, my folding methodology is just about the only thing I’ve retained from Kondo’s teachings. I own more plain white T-shirts than should be legal: 22 in that dresser alone, and God knows how many more scattered throughout my... Read this story
