I don't know why, but lately I've been dressing like a weird southeast Asian peasant. Think, lightweight, kind of boxy linens and cottons, indigo-dyed and worn all loosey-goosey. And as such, I'm definitely convincing myself to put this Porter Classic shirt in my shopping cart. For real, with the right backdrop, I could probably provide wardrobe for a really bad kung-fu movie where a traveling monk rolls through and at first seems like a bumbling drunk, but ends up murdering the local ganglord in a dramatic fight that ends in the local bamboo forest. Or you know, some guy in Brooklyn that farted right next to you on the train, but then scooped up a seat on the opposite end, leaving you stewing in the silent stench of being wrongly convicted for a fart you didn't commit.