Blue heart, because loving Maine is basically a seasonal affective disorder with a flannel on. Eight months of gray sky, one week of summer that everybody calls "the season," then it's dark at 3:45pm again and you're emotionally bonding with your space heater. That's not sadness. That's commitment.
This is for the people who swim in water that is legally too cold to be called water, who treat blackfly season like a personality trait, who know a mud season pothole can end a marriage. You pay tourist prices for a lobster roll in your own hometown and tip anyway, because deep down you'd rather be here, wet and freezing, than anywhere with palm trees. Blue heart energy. Melancholy, loyal, slightly damp.
Cut from soft, substantial fabric that holds its shape through woodstove season and whatever the sky decides to do next. Roomy enough to layer, comfortable enough to wear five days straight, and durable enough that it'll outlast at least two of your snow shovels.
