Green heart, because South Carolina runs on chlorophyll and spite. The humidity out here is less "weather" and more "a wet towel with opinions," which is exactly why everything is aggressively, unreasonably green by March. Palmetto fronds, marsh grass, fairways, that stuff growing on your porch steps you keep meaning to pressure wash. The whole state looks like a screensaver and smells like pluff mud and somebody's smoker going since 5 a.m.
Also green because the rest of the country is straight up jealous. They get three months of patio season. We get shrimp off the dock, boiled peanuts from a cooler on the shoulder, mustard based sauce that starts arguments, and tailgates in October that feel like a religious experience. Wear this and let the envy marinate.
Soft, broken in from the jump, and built to survive a beach day, a backyard low country boil, and about 400 wash cycles without turning into a crop top. Cozy enough to live in, sturdy enough to earn its own spot in the rotation.
