J.Crew’s latest take on its chambray button-down has a few features that I prefer to those of the original.
The first is the pattern. Although the original was not exactly small, the newer cut is just a touch roomier across the chest and hem. (Both shirts are tagged “slim,” but I’ve always sized up slim shirts for a regular fit.) The newer, more comfortable fit allows for a greater range of motion throughout the day without needing to be retucked. This fit also makes the new shirt a more versatile layering piece that fits more easily over thicker base layers while still being slim enough to fit comfortably under a sweater.
A ripped hem in my old shirt revealed some of the original, unwashed fabric, which is thinner than that of its updated counterpart. The interlining at the cuffs of the new shirt is also thicker and more substantial. Both of these things will help the shirt keep its shape better over time, and especially between washes.
The buttons are also improved. The new buttons are still plastic, as opposed to shell or mother-of-pearl, but they are imitation shell, rather than the imitation horn of the original shirt. Personally, I find the former to look a lot more convincing than the latter, and less visually distracting.
My favorite change, however, is the new shirt’s slightly longer collar. I have never worn a tie with my chambray shirt, but the longer collar would allow me to do so without looking mismatched. The longer collar also has a slight roll, which gives it a bit more body and a kind of three-dimensionality, imparting a livelier feel than the shorter, flatter collar of my original shirt. To match, the new shirt also has longer cuffs and a wider placket — dressier touches that elevate the shirt without diminishing its inherently casual appearance.
The only downgrade is at the side seams. The old shirt’s side seams are sewn with a single-needle construction, whereas the new shirt has a double-needle construction. This means that where there was once only one row of stitches, there are now two rows of parallel stitches.
“A single-needle stitch is more secure,” Goldberg said. “A double-needle stitch is sometimes made on a double-needle chain-stitch machine. If you pluck out a couple threads in the right place, you can pull the whole seam out.” Goldberg also explained that, paradoxically, a double-needle stitch is a single operation, whereas a single-needle stitch is two operations and requires running the garment through the sewing machine twice. A single row of stitches also gives the shirt a cleaner look.
This decision was a cost-cutting measure (as was, I assume, moving production from Mauritius to Bangladesh), and though this change may seem like a small thing, the build quality of my original shirt is part of the reason I came to love it so much, and why it has lasted so long. It certainly wasn’t because I babied it — I was never particularly kind to this shirt, and I usually just chucked it in the washing machine with everything else.
Still, the new shirt has many of the hallmarks of something that can endure years of wear, things that you ought to look for explicitly when buying clothes from big retailers: It is made entirely of cotton with a dense weave, it has clean, even stitching, the buttons are securely attached, and the seams have a relatively high stitch count compared with offerings from other fast-fashion brands, especially considering that the shirt is often on sale for well below its retail price of nearly $90.
Over the years, I have bought and worn many other similar chambray and denim shirts from countless other brands, but I have always returned to that original J.Crew shirt. This one understood its assignment best. At some moment or another, the other shirts all faltered and seemed out of place — either they were dressed up too much or not enough. This one alone captured that elusive and undefinable quality of genuine versatility.
To paraphrase Tom Hagan, that first shirt is semiretired now, but for a long time it came with me on every trip, every adventure, it was my good-luck shirt (and occasional bad-luck shirt), it witnessed nearly every chance encounter, and it perhaps most notably came with me on my recent honeymoon. Its creases know me — the way I rest my right elbow on a table when I write, or how I never fasten the first two buttons — and it has developed a semipermanent fold above the sternum. Its age reflects the idiosyncrasies of my time with it. No other J.Crew shirt can or will ever be just like mine. I do not know where I will find myself if or when my new shirt finally needs replacing, but if I have any luck, it too will be faded white, frayed by years of new and different adventures.
This article was edited by Hannah Rimm and Maxine Builder.
