There is a special kind of t-shirt worn only by young men that hangs from the body with a laxity befitting their slouched frames. Droopy sleeves, shocks of armpit hair, and hems that curl like mid-scoop ice cream. Sleeves begging to be tugged. With cotton thin enough to imply nudity, as if to say, no shirt required. Where do they find these shirts? It really doesn’t matter: You could stretch one over your body, but it won’t give you their tussled hair, hairless nape, or byzantine belly. Theirs is a special kind of t-shirt and comes only in one size.