There is a shelf in your studio. You know the one. It is three mugs deep and nobody is allowed to touch it, and every single one of them was going to be the last.
This is a tee for that shelf. JUST ONE MORE MUG set in chunky mid-century display caps, a wordmark you can read across a studio, over three slightly-wonky thrown mugs drawn with the wobble left in, because that is what a hand-thrown mug looks like. SAID EVERY POTTER EVER, small, underneath. It is the lie you tell yourself at the wheel at nine on a Tuesday, worn as a shirt.
The pottery aisle's idea of a joke is a pun in a free font, or a cartoon frog. This is the joke the other potters actually make, which is the difference between a shirt that gets a laugh and a shirt that gets a "who made that?"
Soft and easygoing, broken in from the first wear, with type that sits in the fabric rather than on top of it, offered in a range of unfired-clay shades, because a light shirt is what you actually wear in a studio, the one place clay stains everything else.
She buys this one for herself. It is also the safest gift in the building for anyone who has heard about the mug shelf one time too many.
Trim slow, glaze brave.
