Light blue heart, because a red one would imply passion and nobody here has the lung capacity for that at 5,280 feet. This is the color of a bluebird morning after a foot of snow, the color of your fingertips on the lift line, the color of the sky that gaslights you into shorts in March right before it dumps eight inches on your grill.
It is affection, but make it chill. The kind of love you feel while stuck in four hours of eastbound mountain traffic on a Sunday, eating gas station green chile and calling it a win. Wear it to the brewery, wear it on the trail, wear it to explain to your out of town cousin that yes, one beer hits different up here.
Built from soft, substantial fabric that holds its shape through sunrise hikes, sunset patios and the twelve weather changes in between. Stitched to survive the wash, the wear and whatever altitude does to your decision making.
