The Winter Pack's flagship, in the one color the house could never have avoided: Springfield yellow, fourteen-ounce fleece, cut boxy the way the archive's spin videos always implied the merch would be.

The topiary system does the talking — the tree-mark grown in moss at the chest, the script trailing down the sleeve, and the pack's centerpiece across the back: the house's face, grown entirely in topiary, flowers in the hedge. The front stays quiet enough to wear anywhere; the back is why you bought it.

One hundred fifty printed, numbered on the hem tag. The house learned scarcity from its own vault — when these are gone, the archive gets a new entry instead of a reprint.