I love ugly sweaters. Really, I do. Knit atrocities pull on my heartstrings with a pathos usually reserved for commercials about shelter pets and third world orphans. I can’t help it. Whenever I see something particularly hideous, I feel compelled to pick it up and bring it home. I prowl thrift stores, lurk in consignment shops, and pillage attics mercilessly.
My closet is immaculately organized. I have a section for dresses, for my Chinese cheongsams, and for shoes. Finally I have sweaters- subcategories upon subcategories of sweaters. Dress sweaters, casual sweaters, seasonal sweaters, and even the occasional cardigan. Sweaters are the comfort food of the clothing world, and cables are the strongest armor that I have. I’ve asked myself why I need to welcome the tacky, the purled, and the hobnob masses yearning to be free. Maybe it’s 90’s nostalgia, or because I was never allowed pets of my own. Though I doubt I’ll ever have an answer, and although I may never be remotely well dressed, at the very least, I’m delightfully warm.