When I was a wee lass of 17 years I thrifted a sweater that I believed to be the be-all and end-all. It was vintage, long, fibre-y (?) - all the things that my young hippy heart wished for. I proudly wore my latest thrift find to work where one of my girlfriends immediately (and loudly) pointed out that it looked like my sweater was woven with pubic hair. From that moment forward each time I looked at my sleeve I saw nothing more than a pile of coarse, curled follicles. Rather than saying goodbye to my furry friend I affectionately named her Muffy and wore her just about every day until she was threadbare. It was love.
More recently I picked up this white sweater at a local vintage shop. Now she's no Muffy but there was something about the fluff about the wrist and collar that reminded me of my dear old friend.
The less awesome thing about this sweater is the number of times in a day it allows me to make a fool of myself. I bet I had my wrist caught on some silly thing no less than 8 times in as many hours. Not so cool when you're trying you're trying to complete a Kijiji sale in person and your entire arm gets stuck to a chain link fence.
sweater: vintage shop >> shirt: Bluenotes
Sometimes my ability to embarrass myself is far too much for even me to understand.