Despite the appearance in these photos to the contrary, this sweater from the Gap's Holiday '01 collection (and nothing says "Holiday Party" quite like a dark chunky wool/acrylic turtleneck) is a fairly traditional black and white heavy knit blend. There is a slight roll at the hem (but not the sleeves, thank goodness for that)...which, if you'll recall the classic maritime adage, "Rolled hem in the morning, wearer take warning."
|You've seen this sweater before...you'll probably see it again. The|
much-desired, rarely-achieved thick chunky turtleneck.
|No, I didn't add an Instagram sepia filter on this image. That's|
what happens when you take iPhone photos at 4:30 in the morning.
|This reminds me of those horribly close-up photos of bugs that|
they used to have in World magazine (although this is much scarier).
My rating: Charlie Sheen. No, not for the obvious reasons (I'd like to think that I can judge a sweater and an actor by his or her merits, not by any pharmaceutical tendencies)...I'm focusing here on lost potential. There was a time in which Charlie Sheen was (and not by his own decree either) a Master of the Universe (more in the sense of Thomas Wolfe than of the Mattel toy collection). His powerful performances in Platoon, Wall Street, and Eight Men Out signified the arrival of talented young actor , but it was his work in Lucas and Ferris Bueller's Day Off that caused me (thank you, Teen Bop magazine) to plaster my locker with pictures of Mr. Sheen (and we're not talking Martin here). Perhaps, I thought, he would be the one to pick up the mantle left off by his brother (no offense, Emilio....I just think that your marriage to Paula Abdul and your subsequent mediocre film roles and lackadaisical mustaches kind of killed my crush on you).
But then Charlie Sheen, the actor, went from working with Oliver Stone, to, well, perpetually being stoned (I know I wasn't going to go there, but it was just too easy).
Soon, everyday, was like Holiday '01 for Mr. Sheen, and things kind of spiraled downward from there. While I can still sort of see what attracted me to him in the first place (a good sense of humor, chunky blended yarn), there's too much baggage with him (the pills, the awkward neckline, that whole oft-referenced "winning" thing) to take the relationship any further. I can't quite reconcile the baby-faced football player in Lucas with the venom spewing, Panama-shirt wearing Lothario...and I'm not sure that I want to.
I gave Charlie (and this sweater) so many chances that I really stopped counting after a while. Even after the whole fiasco with Two and a Half Men, I wished him well (I guess a little bit of charm and 80s movie cache, can go a long way with me...and the public as well). But I think that I'm done with this sweater. It doesn't bring me the joy that I had hoped it would, and I am tired of making excuses for it. Pilling might be forgivable in a greater sweater (or actor), but, when stacked on top of everything else ("Tiger's blood," anyone?), it's pretty much the final straw on top of that poor camel's back. Sorry, Charlie.
Editor's note: I actually threw this sweater on one more time (due to complexities of the sweater blog mandates). It still, for lack of a better word, sucked.
Another note from the editor: I was really cold...and there it was. The day was a typical gloomy, rainy, and chilly afternoon April. While this sweater kept me warm, it brought no sunshine to my life (whither goest thou, Major League and Hot Shots?). I guess this is my "Violent Torpedo of Truth."