While I had planned to wear shades of pink for the first 2 weeks of February, a little something called Downton Abbey happened. No spoilers here (I'll let the writers of the show do that for your mood), but, for some reason, I just didn't feel like wearing bright pink after that season finale. Luckily for all of you, it's been almost 2 months since that season ended with a bang (or, more literally, a crash), so I doubt that I'm ruining anything for the Downtonians out there (Is that a thing? I think I just made up a new term). Anyway, I replaced the festive pink sweater set I was planning to wear, and chose this one to match my mood (for shame, Julian Fellowes).
Since this sweater's twin went over like a lead balloon back on Day 50, I was fairly certain that this one would join his sibling in the ever-growing donation pile. And, because I own this early 2K Express sweater in at least 3 other incarnations, I figured that it's about time I wiped my scowl off and got my cowl on.
|This sweater looks like a celebrity trying to conceal her "bump." It would be better|
off trying to hide those emerging pills...
|I wonder if people have been calling me "Crazy Cowl Lady" behind my back...|
I had all but made reservations in the give away bag for this sweater...until I actually wore it. While its cuter sibling was ill-fitting and far too short, this dour version in black actually had an easy-going drape about it and was fairly "invisible" all day (and I mean that in a good way). The semi-open knit requires that I wear a dark layer underneath (no problem...I went with my darkest "mourning" shirt today), but, otherwise, this was a surprisingly painless wear. The bell-sleeves didn't seem to bother me, nor did I fuss with the cowl at all...which makes me wonder, of course, if it was the trip to the dry cleaners that sealed good old Day 50's fate. One might also make the case that I do not treat my sweaters to "One Hour Martinizing" enough (and if anyone knows what that is, would you please enlighten me)...which, I'll admit, is probably true. But, as you might have noticed, I do have plenty of knitwear options, so many of these have not been worn enough to merit Martinizing (I'm capitalizing it until I am certain that it is not a proper name). That is probably the case with this cowl-neck...although that should concern me as I do see some potential pills on the horizon (but, after what it has been through, what with Lady Sybil and Matthew, I guess I can cut it some slack).
Blogger's Note: (How many times do I have to hang my head and admit how far behind I am on my critiques? I guess until I catch up...which, if my calculations are correct, will be right after the nation bands together and falls asleep watching the NBA playoffs on TNT). Anyway, I am one of those people who goes to Opening Day (yes, Virginia, there really is somebody who likes Downton AND baseball)...and, the forecast called for a strong wind and a high in the upper 30s. Since I'm not allowed to wear an untested sweater (my rules), I had to pull this one out of the "keep" bin. It was still nice and warm, and, like before, the cowl didn't get on my nerves. It is, however, starting to show its age. The pills were more prominent and the sleeves had to be adjusted several times under my heavy down coat. I guess two wearings in one year is starting to take its toll on this Dowager.
My rating: Chad Lowe. Before he became more famous by omission (at the risk of repeating myself: for shame, Hilary Swank), Chad was known as Rob's less-talented and less-attractive brother (don't shoot the messenger...I'm merely reporting what was already in the pop culture ether). Although, to be fair, it is pretty near impossible to be as good looking as Rob Lowe...so imagine having to live up to that in your own family? It's a wonder he ever left the house, let alone put himself up to the public scrutiny required by an acting career. So, while I was wearing that pink cowl-neck on my birthday or other festive occasions like going on pony rides and eating cotton candy, I had relegated the black version for working on taxes, getting car sick, and making made-for-TV movies. Which is a shame, since a good looking sweater that is too short with bell sleeves is really the lesser brother in this equation. Make no mistake, however: Day 50 was not Rob Lowe...it is only Rob Lowe to Day 54's Chad Lowe. I would hate to get accused of rejecting Rob Lowe (even though he never did respond to my fan letter back in the day). This sweater was not perfect (the sleeves were slightly "in your face," and his haircut is a bit dated) but it got the job done and did so without the aid of a ridiculously strong jawline and impossibly blue eyes). So, for today only, it is time to make things right: "I'd like to thank the Academy. And Chad Lowe...".
Postmortem (for once, pun not intended). My Mom took one look at the pictures of this sweater and declared that it looked like a shroud. And she didn't stop there...she said that it looked like it had once been brown, but the body had been buried so long that the dirt caused it to be that glorious shade of black. That was the death knell for this cowl-neck, I'm afraid--I can put up with cowls, chenille, and even the occasional funnel-neck...but a shroud? Not so much. So, (this time, pun intended), another one bites the dust.