Most places get one shirt. It's in the airport, the outline isn't quite the right shape, and the state name is set in a font somebody picked in four seconds.
We think where you're from deserves better than that.
Every piece starts with the real thing. The outline on the chest comes from US Census boundary data — the actual survey, not a tracing. Every notch, every river bend, every stretch of coast sits where it really sits. Almost nobody will check. That's exactly why it matters.
The back is an emblem, and every state gets its own. Not a skyline, not a postcard cliché — the things a place actually puts on its gates and walls and belt buckles, drawn into a single mark. Two inks, printed like an old screen print.
Everything's printed on garment-dyed Comfort Colors. The color goes into the finished garment instead of the yarn, so the palette comes out faded and chalky and no two pieces are quite alike. They show up already feeling worn in.
Fifty states, eventually. Each one gets the same hours. Texas first.