Soft combed cotton, gold front, The Ceiling on the back. Holds up better than a doomsday bunker's resale value.
The truly rich have invented a whole new category of suffering: the agony of which $30 million painting to buy, the heartbreak of a superyacht that won't fit in the harbor, the existential dread of a leaderboard where they're only the seventh richest. Hoarders gonna hoard. It would almost be sad if it weren't sitting on top of everyone else's actual problems. The wealth cap doesn't take their joy. But it may help them find it.
