I found the most perfect piece in my wardrobe in the bargain bin of a no-name Australian high street store that I only wandered into because I was lost and I needed directions. It's embarrassing being lost in your own city, and I chickened out, instead choosing to fish around in a big black tray that had been strategically placed close to the cash register. There it was, slightly crumpled at the bottom underneath some heinous velvet leggings and a ludicrously yellow tank top. It had bracelet length sleeves, the best sleeve length in my opinion, and a wide, oversized drape with tiny pockets and a chic row of buttons down the back. A reverse cardigan, if you will. It had a boat neck with a tiny rib hem and larger ribbed cufs which you could push up easily, past your forearms, past your elbows, ready for getting down to business. And it was the most delicious, delectable shade of warm porridge fresh from the stove.
I love that jumper, I really do. It makes me want to pout and pose just like hanne gaby whenever I wear it. I've worn it probably at least once every three days for the past year,
summer and
winter, and barring the inevitable wear and tear of something that isn't meant to last longer than a season it's held up pretty well. I wish it hadn't pilled as much as it has, but it cost next to nothing and I'm not surprised. And I still love it. It has a worn in feeling to it that reminds me of my roly-poly house, and incredible, mind-blowing lectures, and late nights that turned into early mornings at Parisian bars. It
makes me feel comfortable which is no mean feat, and probably the most important thing really. When you read style advice tomes in the vein of
Ines' one, they inevitably proffer the same tidbits of wisdom. One which has always stuck with me has been the old adage of sticking to what works for you. When you find something that makes you happy and looks good and is functional, hold on to it with both hands and a firm grip. Well, I've found my perfect sweater. I mean,
this Opening Ceremony one reminds me of it, if a little fancier, but, well... I kind of like my no-name Australian high-street sweater the best! It could be fashion laziness and an unwillingness to break out of the box and try new things, or it could also just be because I've been lucky enough to find something so perfect that it kind of defies any description at all, and to give it all up for something with a designer label and a fancy detachable scarf would be nothing short of madness.
The day I get rid of that jumper I reckon some
old hag will appear to boo me, declaring that "I had true sweater perfection in my hands, and I wore another..."
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