Summer School

“Fold responsibly. Or don’t. I’m not your dad.”

This is not the world’s fanciest hoodie. It’s not cashmere. It’s not hand‑woven by monks in the Alps. It’s not even technically “dress code approved” at the marina (sorry, Commodore). But since 2023, it’s been the only hoodie our crew at Nepean Sailing Club actually wears — on the dock, at the bar, and yes, even mid‑regatta when we should probably be lifting our fenders instead of letting them hang.

It’s tough, it’s cozy, and it’s basically the duct tape of clothing. You’ll spill rum on it, you’ll sweat in it, you’ll probably sleep in it. And years from now, you’ll look at this hoodie and think: “Wow, that’s where the memories live. Also, why does it still smell like tequila?”

This hoodie isn’t prestige. It’s personality. It’s the unofficial uniform of the Railmeat fleet — proof that you can party all night, race all day, and still look like the competitor everyone’s watching.

Future memories included. Batteries not. Rum sold separately.

⚓️ Hoodie Details

• Material: 50% cotton / 50% polyester fleece blend

• Weight: Heavyweight, 8 oz (because flimsy hoodies are for yacht club posers)

• Fit: Classic unisex fit — relaxed, roomy, and perfect for layering over your hangover

• Features:

  • Double‑lined hood with drawstring (for dramatic storm‑movie moments)

  • Ribbed cuffs and waistband (keeps the warmth in, keeps the rum belly contained)

  • Kangaroo pocket (for snacks, flasks, or questionable decisions)

  • Durable stitching (because regattas aren’t gentle)

📏 Size Guide (aka “Avoid the Crop‑Top Pirate Look”)

Warning for sailors: these shrink faster than your dignity after a dock party. Grab a size up unless you enjoy the “midriff‑exposing deckhand” vibe.

🏴☠️ Why You’ll Love It

Because it’s not just a hoodie. It’s a crew badge of honor. It’s the thing you throw on when the dock party goes too long, when the wind picks up, or when you want strangers to know you’re part of the Railmeat fleet — the crew that laughs louder, sails harder, and lets their fenders (and confidence) hang.