It’s Sweater Weather

**Stories that were not in My List My Rules 

Goal: Purchase a Cashmere Sweater

I don’t like shopping but as a woman in her forties, I felt like there were some parts of the consumer experience I may be missing. I wondered why so many of my friends were into wandering around the mall. A good friend of mine went to the mall to try dresses on—just because. There was no event, and nothing happening socially to warrant purchasing a new frock. But she did it, sending me a photo from the change room to show me what she got. Compared to my peers I’m so off-target on this shopping thing.

I would find myself listening to what felt like another language. Some things I knew from sheer exposure: Lulu Lemon, Kors, Boss, Klein, Sarto. But there were some things they said that I was not familiar with at all. Coach? What was that? A car? Motor home? Manolo Blahnik? A Russian rocket ship! Fendi? Sushi! Dolce and Gabanna? Italian dessert! Guess? Oh, I’m guessing, alright. Wait…that’s a brand? Sigh.

In conversations that I was on the margins of, the talk of cashmere came up. One of my friends oooh’d and ahhhh’d over cashmere. She told us about her last purchase on a business trip. She gushed about the quality and the fit. The rest of the women nodded. I felt like I was at some bible study church group where one of the women witnessed and the rest agreed in support, and belief in the truth. I joined in the way you do when someone tells a joke you don’t get, looking a little to the left and a little to the right to see if there was a clue in the faces of the others to help me understand. Nope. No clues. My sheer lack of knowledge made me more curious. So as the checklist of things was growing for this year I knew that I had to exercise my shopping muscles. As much as I felt resistance to it I knew it would likely be a good idea in the end, if for nothing more than knowing myself a little better. And more importantly, giving myself a new something to wear.

Cashmere is a pretty glamorous and historic textile. It’s also not cheap. And, it usually needs dry cleaning. I had to keep it classic. I wanted a standard black sweater. It was easy enough to find, hanging in a shop I wouldn’t typically go into. I checked the tag. 100% pure cashmere with a gold emblem of a goat. Cool. This was it. Basic. Black. I checked the price. Oddly affordable. Easy. I paid. The woman in the shop put it in a pretty bag with tissue.

At home, I pulled the sweater over my head. Halfway on I stopped feeling the smooth softness of the fabric. I wiggled into it slower than I would with any other sweater. Was I making out with it. Oh dear. The point is not just to buy something cashmere but to really, really enjoy it. Fuck. I was making out with it! Damn, this single life! Oh well! I guess this is all about being in the moment. I hugged myself. My photo of the day was of me in front of a pretty tapestry on the wall in my new cashmere sweater.

I gave the sweater one more hug. Fuzzy butter.