Sharp, simple, and ready to sail. This is not the world’s fanciest T‑shirt. It’s not silk. It’s not hand‑loomed by mystical sea nymphs. It’s not even technically “marina chic.” But since 2023, it’s been the only tee our Railmeat crew actually wears — on the dock, at the bar, and yes, even mid‑regatta when we should probably be trimming sails instead of trimming beers. It’s a soft, it’s sturdy, and it’s basically the Swiss Army knife of T‑shirts. You’ll sweat in it, spill rum on it, probably use it as a rag at some point, and still keep wearing it because it feels like home. Years from now, you’ll look at this tee and think: “Wow, that’s where the memories live. Also, why does it still smell like tequila?” This isn’t prestige. It’s personality. It’s the unofficial uniform of the Railmeat fleet — proof that you can party all night, race all day, and still look like the competitor everyone’s watching. Future memories included. Shrinkage possible. Rum not included. ⚓️ Tee Details Material: 100% ring‑spun cotton (heather colors are cotton/poly blends) Weight: Lightweight, 4.5 oz (because heavy tees are for yacht club posers) Fit: Classic unisex fit — soft, breathable, and perfect for layering over your hangover Features: Taped neck and shoulders (for durability when you inevitably fall asleep in it) Double‑stitched sleeves and hem (because regattas aren’t gentle) Softstyle fabric (feels like a hug from the crew, minus the awkwardness) 📏 Size Guide (aka “Avoid the Crop‑Top Pirate Look”) Warning for sailors: these tees can shrink a little after a few washes. Grab a size up unless you enjoy the “midriff‑exposing deckhand” vibe. Size Chest (inches) Length (inches) S 34–36 27 M 38–40 28 L 42–44 29 XL 46–48 30 2XL 50–52 31 3XL 54–56 32 🏴☠️ Why You’ll Love It Because it’s not just a T‑shirt. It’s a crew badge of honor. It’s the thing you throw on when the dock party goes too long, when the wind picks up, or when you want strangers to know you’re part of the Railmeat fleet — the crew that laughs louder, sails harder, and lets their fenders (and confidence) hang.
