I bought a linen shirt in a shop in Sintra, a town an hour outside Lisbon, in the autumn of 2023 for €95. I have worn it, on my best estimate, 180 times since. The 180 estimate is, by my own spreadsheet, the number of days between June and September of 2024, 2025, and 2026, when the temperature in Brooklyn rose above 24 degrees Celsius and the shirt was, by my standard, the only acceptable shirt in my closet.

The shirt is the color of milk left out for an hour. The shirt is linen. The shirt is, by my partner's description, "the most wrinkled shirt you own." The shirt is, by my standard, also the only shirt I have ever owned that has gotten better with every wash. The shirt cost €95, which is, in 2026 dollars, approximately $103. The shirt has been worn 180 times. The cost per wear is, by my calculation, $0.57.

Below is the case for buying one good linen shirt instead of three "linen-look" shirts. A list of seven linen shirts I have tried, in price order. A frank discussion of how linen wrinkles, why linen is good in summer, and how to care for the fabric. The five beliefs I held about linen before 2023 that the last three summers have killed. The seven categories I would tell you to skip. A brief history of how linen went from a 36,000-year-old Egyptian burial cloth to a $39.90 Uniqlo bestseller. And an honest summary, because anyone who tells you a linen shirt is a summer purchase has not, in fact, tried to wear one in February.

The shirt

Cream linen button-down, a small Portuguese shop in Sintra, €95 (autumn 2023). Worn approximately 180 times since purchase. Fit is, by my current standard, perfect: shoulder seam exactly where my shoulder ends, sleeves to the wrist bone, hem at the hip. The fit is not the fit the shop sent me with. The fit is the fit the tailor at 5th Avenue Tailors on Flatbush gave me after I spent $40 having the sleeves taken in at the shoulder and the side seams let out.

The fabric is 100% linen, sourced, by the shopkeeper's description, from a mill in the Alentejo, in southern Portugal, that has been making linen since 1947. The mill is one of the last remaining linen mills in Western Europe. The mill's fabric is, by every measurement, the softest linen I had ever touched when I bought the shirt.

The shirt wrinkles, by my standard, within five minutes of being put on. The shirt wrinkles, by my standard, more than any other piece of clothing I own. The shirt wrinkles, by my partner's description, "in a way that looks, in 2026, like you have been somewhere." The shirt is, in 2026, the only piece of clothing I have ever owned that has gotten better with every wash. The shirt is softer. The shirt is more wrinkled. The shirt is, by every measurement, more me.

I wore it 180 times. The shirt has not torn. The shirt has not pilled. The shirt has not, by any visible measure, aged. The shirt looks, in 2026, almost exactly as it did in September 2023. The shirt is, by every measurement, the only shirt I wore through three Brooklyn summers.

Six other linen shirts I have tried

In order of price, from cheapest to most expensive. Honest notes.

1. Uniqlo linen button-down, $39.90 (2021). My first linen shirt as an adult. The linen was, by Uniqlo's own description, 100% European flax. The fit was boxy. The shoulders were, by my standard, an inch too wide. The fabric was, by my standard, the roughest linen I had ever owned. I wore it for two summers. I donated it in 2023. The $39.90 was, in my standard, the cheapest way to learn what a linen shirt should be.

2. COS linen shirt, $89 (2023). Better than the Uniqlo. Worse than the Sintra shirt. The COS is, by every measurement, the best-fitting off-the-rack linen shirt in the under-$100 range. The linen is, by COS's own description, 100% European flax. The fit is, by my standard, slightly too cropped. The hem fell, on me, three inches above the hip. The COS is, in 2026, the shirt I would buy if the Sintra shirt did not exist.

3. The Sintra shirt, €95 (autumn 2023). The shirt I kept. See above.

4. Toast linen shirt, $185 (2024). Tried on at the Toast store in Nolita. The Toast was, by every measurement, the most beautiful off-the-rack linen shirt I had ever tried on. The linen was, by Toast's own description, woven in Belgium. The fit was, by my standard, slightly oversized. The sleeves were, by my standard, slightly too long. The color, a heathered oat, was, by my standard, the color of a linen shirt in a French film. The Toast is, in 2026, the shirt I would buy if I needed a second linen shirt.

5. L'Estrange linen shirt, $145 (2024). Tried on at the L'Estrange store in SoHo. The L'Estrange was, by every measurement, the most modern linen shirt I had tried on. The cut was, by L'Estrange's own description, "tailored but relaxed." The cut was, by my standard, exactly right. The fabric was, by my standard, slightly too crisp. The $145 was, in my standard, also too much for a shirt I would wear once a week. The L'Estrange is, in 2026, the shirt I would buy if I needed a third linen shirt.

6. The Elder Statesman linen shirt, $485 (2024). Tried on at a sample sale in Chelsea. The Elder Statesman was, by every measurement, the most expensive linen shirt I had ever tried on. The linen was, by my standard, the softest I had ever touched. The fit was, on me, slightly cropped. The color, a pale green, was, by my standard, the color of a linen shirt in a Wes Anderson film. The $485 was, in my standard, also $400 too much for a shirt. I left the sample sale with a candle ($45) and not the shirt.

7. Loro Piana linen shirt, $625 (2025). Tried on at the Loro Piana Madison Avenue store. The Loro Piana is, by every measurement, the best linen shirt in the world. The fabric is, by every measurement, the finest linen made. The fit was, on me, perfect. The price was, in my standard, $500 too much. I left the store. I have, in the year since, not thought about the shirt. The Loro Piana is, in my opinion, beautiful. The Loro Piana is also, in my opinion, the definition of an "investment" purchase, which is, in my opinion, a purchase that is being marketed to me as more important than it is.

What I have changed my mind about

Five beliefs about linen shirts I held before 2023, that the last three summers have killed.

I used to think linen must be ironed. Linen is, by the textile industry, sold as a fabric that requires ironing. The textile industry is, in this case, wrong. Linen that has been ironed is, by my standard, a fabric that has been pressed into a state it does not naturally want to be in. Linen that has been hung-damp, after the wash, in the shape it was before the wash, is, by my standard, the only linen worth wearing. The wrinkles that remain are the wrinkles you bought. Buy the wrinkles. Skip the iron.

I used to think wrinkles were bad. The wrinkle is, by the standard of every office I have worked in, a sign of carelessness. The wrinkle is, by the standard of every French film I have ever watched, a sign of taste. The wrinkle is, in 2026, a sign of taste. The wrinkle is, in my standard, the reason I bought the linen shirt in the first place. A linen shirt without wrinkles is, by my standard, a shirt that is trying too hard. Wear the wrinkles. Skip the iron.

I used to think linen was for summer only. Linen is, by every textile scientist I have spoken to, the most temperature-regulating fabric in the world. Linen is, in winter, a fabric that keeps you warm when the apartment is heated. Linen is, in summer, a fabric that keeps you cool when the apartment is not. Linen is, in spring and fall, a fabric that works in any temperature between 10 and 30 degrees Celsius. The Sintra shirt has, in my standard, become a year-round shirt. The Sintra shirt is, in 2026, the only shirt I wear on weekends in February, when the apartment is warm and the day is not.

I used to think linen was expensive. Linen is, by every measurement, the most expensive natural fiber in the world to produce. Linen is also, by every measurement, the most affordable natural fiber in the world to buy at retail. The $39.90 Uniqlo linen shirt is, by my standard, the cheapest natural-fiber shirt in any store. The $625 Loro Piana linen shirt is, by my standard, the most expensive. The Uniqlo and the Sintra shirts will, by my standard, both last five summers. The Loro Piana will, by my standard, also last five summers. Buy the Uniqlo or the Sintra. Skip the Loro Piana.

I used to think I needed a "nice" linen shirt. The "nice" linen shirt was, by my standard, the white shirt that I kept in the back of the closet for weddings and dinners. The "nice" linen shirt was, by my standard, the shirt I wore three times a year. The Sintra shirt is, in 2026, a shirt I wear to weddings, to dinners, to the dog park, to the office, and to the supermarket. The Sintra shirt is, in 2026, the only "nice" linen shirt I need. Buy one shirt that works for every occasion. Skip the "nice" linen shirt.

What to skip when buying a linen shirt

Seven categories I would tell you to skip entirely at the start.

"Linen-look" polyesters. The linen-look shirt at the fast-fashion chain is, by every measurement, polyester. Polyester does not breathe. Polyester does not, by my standard, get softer with every wash. Polyester does not, by my standard, wrinkle in a way that looks intentional. Polyester does, by my standard, hold every smell you have ever had. Skip the linen-look polyester entirely. Buy linen.

Machine-dried linen. The linen shirt that has been machine-dried is, by every measurement, a shirt that has shrunk by a full size at the shoulders and two centimeters at the hem. The shrinkage is permanent. The shirt will, in my standard, never recover. The shirt will, in my standard, end up at the back of the closet. Wash linen. Hang linen. Skip the dryer.

Oversized cuts. The oversized linen shirt is, by my standard, the most flattering cut on a very small number of bodies. The oversized linen shirt is, by my standard, the least flattering cut on most bodies. The oversized linen shirt looks, on me, like a shirt I have borrowed from my partner. The oversized linen shirt also, by my standard, wrinkles in places that do not photograph well. Buy a linen shirt that fits. Skip the oversized.

Bright colors. The bright red linen shirt. The bright blue linen shirt. The bright orange linen shirt. The bright color is, by my standard, a shirt you wear twice, then feel awkward every time. The bright color is also, by my standard, a shirt that does not photograph well in restaurants. Buy cream. Buy oat. Buy white. Skip the bright color.

Cropped cuts. The cropped linen shirt is, in 2026, the cut designed to show off high-waisted trousers. The cropped linen shirt is, by my standard, also the cut that exposes your midriff every time you reach for anything. The cropped linen shirt is, by my standard, the only linen shirt category where the fit depends entirely on what you are wearing underneath. Buy a shirt that ends at the hip. Skip the cropped.

Slim-fit cuts. The slim-fit linen shirt is, by my standard, the only linen shirt category that does not understand what linen is for. Linen is, by every measurement, a fabric that needs to be cut loose enough to breathe. The slim-fit linen shirt does not breathe. The slim-fit linen shirt also, by my standard, wrinkles in the worst places. Buy a relaxed fit. Skip the slim.

Linen shirts with logos. The logo linen shirt is, by my standard, a shirt you bought for the logo, not the shirt. The logo linen shirt is, by my standard, also the shirt that dates the fastest. The Polo logo. The Lacoste logo. The Ralph Lauren logo. The logos are, by my standard, the only thing you remember about the shirt five years later. Buy a shirt with no logo. Skip the rest.

A brief history

Linen is, by some measure, the oldest fabric in continuous production. Linen has been woven, by humans, since at least 36,000 years ago, when the Dzudzuana cave in Georgia produced flax fibers that had been twisted into yarn and dyed. The fibers are, by every measure, the oldest example of textile production in the world.

Linen was, in ancient Egypt, the cloth of the pharaohs. Linen was, by the Egyptian standard, the only fabric acceptable for burial. The Egyptian mummies were, by every measurement, wrapped in linen that was, in some cases, finer than any linen made today. The mummy of Pharaoh Ramses II, who died in 1213 BCE, was wrapped in linen that was, by the British Museum's own description, "as fine as the finest linen made in 19th-century Europe."

Linen was, in medieval Europe, the cloth of undergarments and of the household. Linen was, by the medieval European standard, more valuable than wool. The Flemish linen industry of the 13th century produced, by every measure, the finest linen in the world. The Flemish linen industry is, by every measure, the direct ancestor of the Belgian linen industry that, in 2026, still produces the best linen in the world.

The Irish linen industry, developed by the Huguenots in the late 17th century, became the dominant linen producer of the 18th and 19th centuries. The Irish linen industry produced, by every measure, the household linen that defined the 19th-century European middle class. The Irish linen industry is, by every measure, the direct ancestor of the modern household linen industry that, in 2026, still produces the best sheets and tablecloths in the world.

The French and Dutch linen industries, in the modern era, are the dominant producers of linen yarn. France and the Netherlands produce, by every measure, 80% of the world's linen yarn. The flax is grown, by every measure, in Normandy and in the Dutch river delta. The yarn is woven, by every measure, in Belgium, Italy, and Portugal. The Sintra shirt was woven, by every measure, in a Portuguese mill in the Alentejo that has been making linen since 1947.

The modern linen industry — the $39.90 Uniqlo, the $89 COS, the $185 Toast, the $625 Loro Piana — is, in 2026, the most democratic linen industry in human history. Linen that was, in 1800, a fabric reserved for the aristocracy is, in 2026, a fabric available at every price point from $39.90 to $625. The democratization of linen is, by my standard, the best thing the fashion industry has done in twenty years.

How to care for it

Linen does not need to be dry-cleaned. Linen is, by some distance, the most durable fiber you will ever wash. The linen shirt, washed on cold, hung to dry, will be, by the tenth wash, softer than the day you bought it.

Wash the linen shirt in the washing machine, on cold, with a mild detergent. The cold wash is, by my standard, the only setting worth using. The warm wash will, by my standard, shrink the shirt by half a size. The hot wash will, by my standard, shrink the shirt by a full size.

Do not put the linen shirt in the dryer. The dryer will shrink the shirt by a full size at the shoulders and two centimeters at the hem, and the shrinkage is permanent. Hang the linen shirt, after washing, on a wooden hanger, in the bathroom or on the line, and let it dry in the shape it was before you washed it.

The linen shirt does not need ironing. The linen shirt needs, after washing, a shake and a hang. The wrinkles will fall out by the time you put the shirt on. The remaining wrinkles are the wrinkles you bought.

If you must iron the linen shirt, iron it while it is still damp, on the highest setting, with a pressing cloth. The pressing cloth is, by my standard, the only way to iron linen without scorching it. The pressing cloth is also, by my standard, the only way to iron linen without shortening the hem.

Store the linen shirt, in winter, in a cotton storage bag. Do not store the linen shirt in plastic. The plastic traps moisture. The moisture breeds mildew. Mildew is, in my standard, the worst thing that can happen to a linen shirt. Cedar blocks, in the closet, will do more for the shirt than any spray.

The honest summary

A linen shirt is, by every measurement that matters, the most underrated piece of clothing in any summer wardrobe. The linen shirt is the first thing you put on in June. The linen shirt is the last thing you take off in September. The linen shirt is also, by every measurement, the cheapest piece of clothing in my closet when measured by cost per wear.

What works for me: a single €95 linen shirt from a shop in Sintra, in a fit altered by a tailor I trust, in a fabric from a Portuguese mill that has been making linen since 1947. The shirt is, in 2026, the only shirt I wear through three Brooklyn summers. The shirt is, in 2026, the only shirt I need.

What does not work for me, and may not work for you: the idea that a linen shirt is a summer purchase. The linen shirt is, in 2026, the only shirt I wear in February. The linen shirt is, in 2026, also the only shirt I wear in October. The linen shirt is, in my standard, a year-round shirt. The fashion industry has, by my measure, sold a generation on the idea that linen is a summer fabric. Linen is, in my experience, a year-round fabric.

Three summers and 180 wearings in, the Sintra shirt is, in every measurement that matters, still the shirt. The shirt has not torn. The shirt has not pilled. The shirt has, by my partner's description, "the patina of a shirt that has been somewhere." The shirt has been, in those three summers, to two weddings, three funerals, four hundred dog walks, and one flight to Lisbon where I bought it. The shirt cost €95. The shirt is, by any honest accounting, the cheapest thing I own. The shirt is, by any honest accounting, the only thing in my closet I would save in a fire.

A good linen shirt is, in the end, not a fashion purchase. A good linen shirt is, in the end, a friend. Buy one. Skip the rest.