I've Been Slowly Replacing All of My T-Shirts With Comfort Colors

WIRED

08-03-2025

I happened upon the budget brand at a chintzy souvenir shop in Maine. I've since sworn full allegiance to the cult of Comfort Colors. Photograph: Martin Cizmar; Getty Images
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I tend to buy T-shirts in bunches. Anytime I find a shirt I really like, I acquire at least a week's worth. In the era retroactively known as 'indie sleaze,' I was outfitted exclusively in American Apparel 50/25/25 tees. In the early Instagram era, I saw an ad for Buck Mason and bought a bunch of those. Then I decided I liked V-necks and switched to The Gap's tagless Jersey shirts, which had a nice soft feel and just the right depth of dip.
Last summer, I found my new fave at a chintzy tourist shop in Maine. It had the name of the town, Bar Harbor, printed on a butter-hued blank from a company called Comfort Colors. After a few wearings, I liked it so much I looked at the label to see what it was. I bought a second and have since been slowly replacing every T-shirt in my closet with shirts in the brand's various comforting colors. Photograph: Martin Cizmar Comfort Colors Heavyweight T-Shirt 1717
Comfort Colors isn't an emerging brand—it's owned by Gilden, which is about as interesting and sexy as being owned by Country Crock margarine. I am not the first person from a prominent review site to notice that Comfort Colors is the best in the biz, though I believe I am the first to do so without funding Maureen Dowd and Ross Douthat for a website still approvingly dubbing new products the 'Tesla of …' in 2025.
In any case, the Comfort Colors T-shirt—specifically the standard-issue 100 percent cotton model no. 1717—checks every box for me.
They're boxy but not too boxy. I have a few vintage Hanes Beefy T's, and Comfort Colors are far more fitted, with sleeves that stop an inch or so above the elbow instead of drooping down the forearm. They look a little boxier than they are because of the triple-stitched shoulders and double-stiched hemline and sleeves, which give the shirt an overbuilt look and feel. For a middle-aged person, this is a cut that says you know three Billie Eilish songs, but you're not trying to dress like her.
Comfort Colors tees are made with cotton from American farms, though it's spun up in Honduras. It's ring-spun, which gives it both softness and strength. These shirts are far more breathable than any blend, even though they're made from relatively hefty 6.1-ounce fabric. That means that one square yard of that fabric weighs 6.1 ounces, making it just a tad beefier (0.1 ounces per square yard) than either a Hanes Beefy T or a Uniqlo Supima cotton tee. Best of all, the American cotton ages beautifully. None of my half-dozen Comfort Colors shirts have shrunk, and they've all softened and faded just a touch with each whirl around the washing machine. Photograph: Martin Cizmar
The colors I like best—flo blue, butter, pepper, crimson—come with a lightly faded look thanks to a pigment dye process that uses less water and power than traditional dying. They have a broken-in vintage vibe right out of the bag, which I really appreciate. It's a tiny detail, and there is no objective reason to value it, but I also love that the tags are dyed the same color as the shirt.
Did I mention they're about $10 each? And they come in dozens of colors. And with pockets. They have sweatshirts too!
Comfort Colors is so great because you can build an entire closet of basics from their line without breaking the bank. And if you get tired of plain, there are options. The wide array of colors and a very reasonable price point means they're also popular with screenprinters. There's a cottage industry of Etsy sellers printing on them, with buyers like me presumably searching specifically for the brand. Our own Parker Hall prints T-shirts for his band on Comfort Colors blanks—I'll buy one if I can make it to one of his shows. And when I'm back in Maine this July, you can bet I'll be buying a bunch more—look for me in a 'THE MOOSE IS LOOSE' T-shirt with a design transparently ripping off the Life Is Good look, but somehow with an enhanced charge for cheuginess.
If you're a loyal WIRED reader, you may have seen that we recently updated a list of the best T-shirts among those T-shirts which claim they're the best T-shirts, which was compiled by our London-based team with input from a Saville Row tailor. I did request that they include Comfort Colors in their testing, though they naturally had no idea what a Col o r was. They politely declined because 'the brands have to claim they make the 'BEST, PERFECT' T-shirt' and 'Comfort Colors don't boast, sadly.'
They indeed do not boast, so I will do so in their stead. Comfort Colors makes the closest thing to a perfect T-shirt I've found. You can try one for about $10. If you're like me you may find yourself tossing a fresh color in with every few Amazon orders until your whole closet is full.