Red hearts are for amateurs. Here in Maine we go orange, because that's the color of a lobster that just got real acquainted with a pot of boiling water, and also the color of every single vest in the woods from October through December. Orange is basically the state mood ring: part butter-dipped crustacean, part "please do not shoot me, I am a person."
This is love for a place where mud is an actual season, where the convenience store coffee hits harder than anything a city barista can cook up, and where you'll absolutely be called "from away" for the next forty years no matter how long you've owned the house. You swat the black flies, you survive the ice, you eat the whoopie pie. That's commitment.
Cut from soft, breathable fabric that holds its shape through coastal fog, woodstove heat, and one too many trips through the wash. The print stays bright, the seams stay put, and the fit works whether you're chasing a ferry or hiding from a nor'easter.
