"I'm On Fire for Arizona" Long Sleeve Shirt

"I'm On Fire for Arizona" Long Sleeve Shirt

Regular price $29.99 USD
Regular price Sale price $29.99 USD
Sale Sold out
Shipping calculated at checkout.
Size
Color

Size guide

Long Sleeve Shirt: Gildan 2400 Ultra Cotton Long Sleeve Tee. Measurements are of the garment laid flat, give or take 1 in.

Long Sleeve Shirt measurements in inches
SizeSMLXL2XL
Width1820222426
Length2829303132
Sleeve length2525.52626.527
Long Sleeve Shirt measurements in inches
SizeWidthLengthSleeve length
S182825
M202925.5
L223026
XL243126.5
2XL263227

How to measure

Width: lay the shirt flat and measure straight across the chest, armpit to armpit.

Length: from the highest point of the shoulder, next to the collar, down to the bottom hem.

Sleeve length: on long sleeves, from the shoulder seam to the cuff. "From center back" means from the middle of the back of the collar, over the shoulder, to the cuff.

Tip: measure a shirt you already like and compare it with the chart.

All sales are final. No returns or exchanges, so please check the size guide before you order.

Shipping

Free US shipping on orders of $90 or more. Below that, shipping is calculated at checkout.

Every item is printed to order. Orders are processed within 1 to 3 business days, and you get an email with tracking as soon as yours ships.

Shipping policy

Returns: all sales final

We do not accept returns or exchanges. That includes ordering the wrong size or color, or changing your mind, because every item is printed just for you.

If your item arrives damaged or misprinted, email info@emojistates.com within 14 days of delivery with a clear photo of the problem, and we will reprint it or refund you.

Refund policy

Some states get a regular heart. Arizona gets a heart that is literally on fire, because that's just accurate reporting. It's 118 degrees, your steering wheel is a branding iron, your flip flops have fused to the driveway, and you're still out here saying "but it's a dry heat" like that's a flex. This is a love letter written in sunscreen and sweat. It's the state where you drive past twelve roundabouts and a saguaro doing a rude gesture, where green chile goes on everything including breakfast, and where "winter" means a light hoodie and smug texts to relatives shoveling snow. Scorpion in the shower? Mild inconvenience. Haboob swallowing the horizon? Tuesday. You love it here and it's actively trying to cook you. Hence: heart on fire. Soft, broken in from the first wear, and built to survive patio season, monsoon humidity, and the air conditioning set to arctic indoors. Durable stitching, print that won't crack, and a fit that works whether you're hiking at 5am or doing absolutely nothing at all.
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