I have a terrible quirk - I refer to everything as "my absolute favourite thing", but I think I may have actually narrowed it down. It's the big beige cardigan. Morally, I was against against beige in general, but this cardigan brings me only joy.
100% wool, long and drapey enough to be worn with leggings, and almost instantaneously boosts one's core temperature by at least 10 degrees, I'm sure. What's not to love? And it's an absolute treasure too, found in the back of the airing cupboard just before I moved out. Previously Mother's, hand-knitted by someone she can't remember. Does this technically mean it qualifies as vintage? It's got to be at least 30 years old. I love the fact that some bizarre relic I found at the back of the airing cupboard can be awarded such a fashion accolade.
Not only that, but it boasts a fantastic array of stitches that I struggled to identify, even with the help of the 1986 Vogue Dictionary of Knitting Stitches (Lala's mum, I owe you this back, and a new needle for your sewing machine, sorry!). Nice bit of cable down the arms though.
I feel about beige cardigan the way most people feel about their favourite hoodie. It's cosy and makes you feel better. "Snuggy" as Sam might say. It treads that fine line between hideous and fabulous, and consequentially makes me feel impossibly chic and warm at the same time. It's like a dressing gown that you can get away with wearing to the pub. The sort of garment about which I could quite literally say "This old thing? Just something I threw on."
And it doesn't stop there. Beige cardigan has magical powers. Men are inexplicably drawn to it, for reasons unknown. I think Dai now agrees he needs more knitwear in his life, and as for the boyfriend, I think he may have proved that he should just never wear cardigans. Sigh.
Disclaimer: No men were harmed in the making of this post. In fact, both of them seized the cardigan without my knowledge. Ah, such powers.
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