There is a particular personality type that gets in a cab at LaGuardia and gives the driver the address from memory. Not "Citi Field." The actual address. 41 Seaver Way, Flushing, NY 11368. Because to them it is not a stadium. It is a destination with a specific set of coordinates that their body already knows how to find.

Strange Allies made this tee for her.

The shirt puts that full address on the chest in a retro typeface, the kind of rounded, slightly wobbly lettering that feels like it came off a neighborhood diner sign or a Queens storefront that has been there since before you were born. It is not trying to look expensive. It is trying to look true. And it does.

The Y2K baby tee cut keeps everything proportional without trying too hard. Worn true to size it sits cropped and close. Sized up it gets looser, more afternoon-in-Flushing, like you've already been at the park for six innings and you've got nowhere to be after.

Wear it with wide-leg jeans and chunky sneakers heading into the 7 train. Tie it at the waist over a midi skirt if you're going from the game to somewhere that has tablecloths. Throw it on with biker shorts and a crossbody on a Tuesday when you just need the world to know where your priorities are.

Mets fandom is its own specific frequency. People who are on it recognize each other. They see 11368 and something clicks. They see Seaver Way and they think about why that name is on that street and they feel something complicated and proud at the same time.

This is not a costume. It is not a costume. It is a declaration from women who have been showing up to that corner of Queens for years, through every kind of season, and plan to keep doing it.