Some states get the red heart. Alaska gets the black one, because your heart matches the sky from November to March. This isn't hate. This is love that's been frozen, thawed, refrozen, and then hit by a moose in the driveway at 7am. You chose a place where the sun clocks out for the winter, the mosquitoes travel in gangs, and "just a quick trip to town" means four hours and a ferry. That's not sadness. That's a personality.
Wear it when you're shoveling in May, when the bear gets into the trash again, when you're explaining to someone from the Lower 48 that no, you cannot see your cousin's house from here. The black heart says it all: cold on the outside, salmon and spite on the inside.
Built from soft, substantial fabric that holds up to actual weather, not the catalog kind. Roomy enough to layer, comfortable enough to live in, and the print stays sharp wash after wash after wash.
