Since I'll be spending the day in a cold ice rink, this sweater doesn't have too many demands on its plate--it merely has to compliment my cute skirt and stay out of the way. That shouldn't be too difficult for a high quality Dana Buchman sweater set, should it?
|And of course I steam-ironed this before wearing it...|
The only positive thing that I can say about this sweater is
that it's really better looking in person. It's actually
a nice rich black...not this odd shade of sludge.
When I started the day wearing this sweater set, things did not appear to be too grim. It seemed soft (due to the fact that it was a higher quality than my usual mall-store chenille...thanks, Mom), hit at a nice part of my skirt (which means that it would be a halter if I were to pair it with anything less than fly-fishing waders), and I thought that maybe I had relegated this to the far corner of the sweater stack unjustly. But then things took a turn for the worse. Several times I had to reach up the arms of my coat to retrieve the sleeves of the sweater. And when I say, "Several," I mean, "A bazillion." And is there any sensation quite so pleasant as when the individual parts of sweater set decides to go solo, and, in a tribute to the sometimes-feuding members of Fleetwood Mac, "Go Your Own Way." Actually, Chubby Checker might be the more appropriate analogy here, as both the sweater and the shell were doing "The Twist," (and not in unison, I might add). If I had any lingering doubts about this sweater, they were erased when I went foraging around under my coat, in a futile attempt to try to locate this sweater's many hems, necklines, and cuffs. Perhaps, unlike the erstwhile Hostess Twinkie (R.I.P., good friend), chenille actually "goes bad" and loses its elasticity (I'm guessing they didn't count on anybody hanging on to these sweaters for more than three presidential terms). Bye bye, Dana Buchman. It's been nice ignoring you on the shelf--and now I know why.
My rating: Wilmer Valderrama. There was a time when it was practically a rite of passage for a young starlet in Hollywood to be in a "serious" relationship with this improbable Casanova. His work on That 70s Show notwithstanding, I can see no valid reason as to why this person's actions are still newsworthy. Instead of checking IDs at clubs, perhaps they should check that person's imdb.com (I just made that up...look for that in a Jay Leno monologue any day now). While I have no problem with an actor that has, to put it nicely, fallen on hard times and is having a hard time finding quality work, I do have a problem when an actor is more famous for hanging out at the clubs and dating the latest it-girl (or "canoodling" as the tabloids so often call it) than doing any actual acting or charitable work. He was quite funny on that show, and this chenille was very soft, but there were so many strikes against him that I could not, in clear conscience, keep this sweater around, lest it serve as a negative influence on my other sweaters. Much like so many women must feel about their Louboutins after wearing their highest stilettos at one of those Valderrama-frequented Hollywood clubs, I couldn't wait to take this sweater off at the end of the day (or, in the clubbers' case, the night).
This sweater set, like Mr. Valderrama's intense social life, is best left in the late 90s/early 2000s.