One Carry-On, One Shirt, Four Outfits. My Week in Amalfi.

Way one: open, over the tank

We arrived by ferry and I wore the shirt open over the black tank with the sleeves rolled. The dropped shoulders and the boxy cut mean it hangs like a light jacket, which is exactly what you want in the evening breeze off the water.

It had been in a suitcase for nine hours. Linen creases softly, not sharply, so it looked like it was meant to. My husband, in a pressed cotton shirt, looked like he'd sat in it for nine hours. Because he had.

Way two: cover-up

The shirt went straight over the swimsuit for the walk down to the beach and the lunch after. The hem is long enough to cover what you want covered and the fabric breathes, so it never felt like a wet towel. When it got splashed it dried in the sun before the coffee arrived.

A woman on the next lounger asked if it was linen and where from. First compliment of the trip, and it came from an Italian, which counts double.

Way three: tucked and buttoned

The nice dinner. I buttoned it to the second button, tucked it into the navy skirt and let it blouse over the waist. The back pleat and button give it shape from behind so it reads as a proper shirt, not a beach thing that wandered indoors.

It had been worn three days by now and had spent a night hanging in a steamy bathroom, which is the closest it got to being pressed. In candlelight, nobody could have told you what it cost. Somebody guessed. They were off by a factor of four.

Way four: knotted at the waist

Boat day. Sleeves up, shirt knotted at the front over the white jeans. The hem is long enough that the knot sits at the waist rather than under the bust, which is the difference between "chic on a boat" and "lost a bet on a boat". The linen took the salt spray without complaint and dried on the deck.

That night: a rinse in the sink with a squirt of shampoo, a squeeze in a towel, a hanger on the balcony. Dry by morning, softer than before.

The one day it stayed in the bag

The wedding dress finally earned its place in the carry-on. But at midnight, walking back up 300 steps in a breeze, the shirt came out of my bag and went over the dress like a jacket. That's the trick with an oversized linen shirt: it's the only "jacket" you can also swim in.

Way one again, and the verdict

Home the way we came: shirt open over the tank, sleeves rolled, nothing ironed, nothing checked. One shirt did the terrace, the beach, the dinner, the boat and a midnight walk. My husband packed six shirts and wore four.

He has since ordered one in navy. He says it's for the garden. It is not for the garden.