tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20115256867494454352024-03-19T04:30:06.699-07:00100 Days of SweatersMolly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.comBlogger69125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-29453426174641977662021-10-31T21:04:00.001-07:002021-10-31T21:04:53.013-07:00Day 64 -- Extremely Old NavyIf this were a Weight Watchers meeting (or pretty much any other group therapy session that I've seen on TV), this would be the point where I would stand up and talk about my accomplishments this week. And, since I just couldn't resist those new Sugar Cookie Pop Tarts (disappointing. Let's leave it at that), I can't claim any food-related successes were I to crash one of of their meetings--but I <i>can</i> discuss my triumph over Anthropologie adversitie [sic].<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7th9GbiscUYE2NiF7BgjRc6QY_VOF13uiuNU45E_vR0VSqySFFE0ZiIy_0pznpzhTKOEmydBM2uS7S8Bb2rlkQ8emlYqVX0OxUwHuY6kSLNRowtUIngyoRLMuIBw2_yu8-nDetN4Mcsf/s1600/28533610_089_c.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7th9GbiscUYE2NiF7BgjRc6QY_VOF13uiuNU45E_vR0VSqySFFE0ZiIy_0pznpzhTKOEmydBM2uS7S8Bb2rlkQ8emlYqVX0OxUwHuY6kSLNRowtUIngyoRLMuIBw2_yu8-nDetN4Mcsf/s320/28533610_089_c.jpeg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Like I could really resist this...</span></td></tr>
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So I'm sure that you can all see why I just had to have this sweater...I mean, it's sporty, it's got a cool "seed" stitch (I'm getting well-versed in the language of knitwear), and, did I mention that it's orange?! And when it said "online exclusive," I could barely hit "Add to cart" quickly enough. I decided that this would be my birthday present to myself (and the other sweater that accidentally eneded up in my cart as well). When it arrived, I cleared out room on the shelf (shoes, be gone!) and was about to give it a position of honor...and then it occurred to me that maybe I might need to try it on first. Kind of crazy, I know...how could a hearty crew neck in size L not fit?<br />
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And it didn't. I mean, it fit...but was kind of bulky and didn't exactly make me feel like taking a selfie while wearing it. So I did something I have only rarely done before...I actually immediately wrapped it back up (before I could make some kind of rationalization like, "Maybe looking fat will be in style next season") and put it in the car to make the long sad drive to my local Anthro store. (If you're wondering, yes, the other sweater that I ordered fit and has taken up residence in my closet).</div>
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When I walked in the store, I was greeted with that unmistakeable essence d'Anthropologie and the sounds of hipster holidays playing on the sound system. And then I saw it. It was chunky. It had a melange of stitches. It looks warm. It has a cowl. AND IT IS ORANGE.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">Place your bets now...did I purchase this sweater?</td></tr>
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So...what are the odds I would let this little fella go? It even comes in a mustard shade (which, admittedly, is a huge turnoff to most people, but I kind of like it...even when they call it "sulfur." Yuck!). Imagine the apples I could pick in this sweater...<br />
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I just kept on walking. And when I looked up the customer reviews online (hey, I never said that I wasn't tempted) and they were mostly positive, I <i>still</i> didn't bite. Maybe I have changed.</div>
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Or maybe I learned that I really don't like cowls all that much. I'm just happy that I never had a school picture taken in one of them because nothing dates a headshot more than a cowl or a set of serious shoulder pads (guilty on the second account). </div>
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But if it goes on sale...</div>
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Ah yes, but back to Day 64. I suppose I threw this little anecdote in here to show that no matter the vintage of the sweater, a troublesome neck will always cause angst to the wearer. We take you now to a light blue turtleneck from Old Navy.</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">I distinctly remember a time when I specifically wrote on my Christmas list: light blue turtlenecks. And that time was Christmas '99. I guess with all of the fears about the Y2K, it makes sense that I focused on what was really important: winter pastels.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The oldest living Old Navy sweater explains it all for you...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't bother trying to uncuff these...they are sewn that way!</td></tr>
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If there were an Antiques Roadshow for Old Navy clothing, I am fairly certainly that this sweater would flip those old appraisers' wigs. Does anyone actually buy anything at Old Navy saying, "This is the heritage piece that I need for my wardrobe for years to come. I'll even pass it down to my children." It's more like, "Hey, this trendy item will fall apart after a season anyway so it doesn't matter that it doesn't really fit," or "Wow...I can wear this logo-T when I play on that shuffleboard league." These are temporary clothes, and I'm pretty sure that nobody expected this sweater to last so long in captivity. This Old Navy light blue turtleneck is a survivor...at least for now.<br />
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There was an old commercial for Doritos in which Jay Leno said, "Crunch all you want, we'll make more." I think that about sums up my attitude towards this sweater. While I thought that the color had a nice wintery feel to it and the sweater draped nicely, I wasn't in love with the fit, the neck, or the sleeves. The whole sweater just put the "Old" in "Old Navy," and clearly did not inspire me to wax poetic. I had almost no reaction to it the entire day...except for the fact that I kept hoping the turtle would commit to a shape--preferrably one that stayed close to my neck. I had about the same feeling about this sweater as I might after eating corn (off the cob, however--on the cob is an entirely different story) or vanilla fro-yo--not an <i>unpleasant</i> experience, but certainly not anything to blog about. Which explains why I didn't. Until now...some 7 months later, and still I've got nothing.<br />
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So, as much as I tried to make a case for it to remain on my sweater roster, I couldn't think of anything more compelling than, "It's fine." This Old Navy officer has just gone to its watery grave.<br />
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My rating: Smashmouth. Wait, what? This sweater is being evaluated in terms of a late 90s/early millennium party band? Hey, if the Skechers fit...</div><div><br /></div><div>Although there is sort of a burgeoning interest in bands from this era, nobody seeks out their Smashmouth CDs (or even the Now! That's What I Call Music that features the ubiquitous "Walking on the Sun"), nor would anyone intentionally reach for this ho-hum sweater. While it means you no harm, having an inferior sweater on all day is like getting "All-Star" stuck in your head--and you're worth more than that. Time to shake off the Y2K nostalgia and send this to the Now! That's What I Call a Boring Sweater pile.</div><div><div aria-label="Reminders, people you may know, and ads" id="rightCol" role="complementary" style="color: #333333; float: right; font-family: "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px; margin-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 40px; width: 244px; word-wrap: break-word;"><div class="home_right_column tickerOnTop" style="margin-top: -12px; width: 244px;"><div class="rightColumnWrapper" style="width: 244px;"><div data-referrer="pagelet_ego_pane" id="pagelet_ego_pane"><div class="ego_column" style="width: 244px;"><div class="ego_section" data-adblock-hash="4" id="u_ps_jsonp_6_2_0" style="margin-bottom: 0px;"><div class="ego_unit_container" style="padding-left: 6px;"><div class="ego_unit" data-ego-fbid="6011833541123" style="border-top-color: rgb(233, 233, 233); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; margin-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 8px;"><div class="_4u8" data-ad="{"adid":6011833541123,"segment":"market"}" id="6011833541123-id_52748efd5bb611c17566810"><div class="_5fxh" style="margin: 2px 0px 4px; position: relative;">
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-9285125144780275202019-11-20T03:46:00.002-08:002019-11-20T03:46:56.684-08:00Day 1B--When Herry Met Sadness<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>Backstory: </i></span><span style="font-size: large;">In my ultimate creativity, I decided to dress as Sadness from</span><span style="font-size: large;"> <i>Inside Out</i></span><span style="font-size: large;"> one year for Halloween (see kids, a long long time ago, we didn't even think of putting the word "sexy" before our costume. I'll leave "Sexy Sadness" to Lana Del Rey). As per usual, very few people knew what I was trying to be, but that's neither here nor there. I had the wig, the glasses, pants of a similar ilk. All that was missing was the right sweater (or in this case, the wrong sweater. On so many levels).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I should have realized that anybody who chooses to wear a grey, shapeless sweater when she's feeling blue (like her hair--just got that symbolism), hits probably a little too close to home. Those of us who use sweaters like mood rings will have no trouble understanding her plight--the choice of sweater can say so much about how one is feeling. I might even go so far as to say that it can impact that emotion. Again, why would I want a sweater that represented a character who was perennially upset? Perhaps there's comfort in knitwear that understands and isn't trying to tell the world anything other than, "I'm having a day. Tread lightly."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When salespeople attempted to help me, I avoided saying, "I am looking for the most depressing grey sweater that I can find." I convinced myself that I would love a good cozy grey sweater for those random days in which my mood was so good that nothing, not even a shapeless poncho-esque open knit from Loft could kill my vibes.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixOdhMEAyDBcJjoPUK59fV9LK78uVs37Qy5ISLgr0w_YJiYU73QuUpU8JD_Tlw2p-tdkTo0xWadnVGYuGkdddsrXrg3X2V2BQ6ZnvVlLqqK04jUzr2wDbyEk6Gf7v5E1Z4QmFvPQkKi3uD/s1600/IMG_1669.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixOdhMEAyDBcJjoPUK59fV9LK78uVs37Qy5ISLgr0w_YJiYU73QuUpU8JD_Tlw2p-tdkTo0xWadnVGYuGkdddsrXrg3X2V2BQ6ZnvVlLqqK04jUzr2wDbyEk6Gf7v5E1Z4QmFvPQkKi3uD/s320/IMG_1669.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sadness Couture</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUtudai7CvuV7wZntKnT8KzLzWwb0lLmSGpimlPOu33xYjDlDIP9WPKa7zE3FJ8zTqzNgfOybQPzlBB_Ubmp3nJYRCtbPE4n2sTQ2hfnrBRREvTDO_zlenirTLHLf_ZOW9bF25Dug0_sP/s1600/IMG_1671.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUtudai7CvuV7wZntKnT8KzLzWwb0lLmSGpimlPOu33xYjDlDIP9WPKa7zE3FJ8zTqzNgfOybQPzlBB_Ubmp3nJYRCtbPE4n2sTQ2hfnrBRREvTDO_zlenirTLHLf_ZOW9bF25Dug0_sP/s1600/IMG_1671.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmUtudai7CvuV7wZntKnT8KzLzWwb0lLmSGpimlPOu33xYjDlDIP9WPKa7zE3FJ8zTqzNgfOybQPzlBB_Ubmp3nJYRCtbPE4n2sTQ2hfnrBRREvTDO_zlenirTLHLf_ZOW9bF25Dug0_sP/s400/IMG_1671.jpeg" width="325" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Usually, I save my opinions for after I've written the blog. Often, I wait even longer than that. But in the case of this sweater, I thought that this was a slam dunk. I'd hate it, show off a few poncho-related puns, and off it would go to a loving home. This sweater was truly a straw man (and not the kind without a brain either). The world would know that I'd changed when I ditched the very first sweater of this blog reboot.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Except that a funny thing happened on the way to the donation pile...I actually sort of liked this sweater. And not even in an "Well, if I have the right high-waisted pants" kind of way. I looked in the mirror and didn't recoil in horror.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> I've been lumping this sweater together with all of the other also-rans from Ann Taylor Loft unnecessarily. On the right person, it might even be, dare I say it, somewhat sporty? </span><span style="font-size: large;">To compound the issue, my Mom took one look at me in this sweater and said, "Is that new?" Often, that is code for "I hope you still have the receipt," but she followed up with, "It's cute." Cute? A sweater I wore to be sadness personified? I liked this sweater a whole lot better when I hated it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Back in the blog's heyday, I would keep my coat on at work as long as I could, so as to hide the offending sweater from sensitive eyes. And while I wasn't ready to say, "Look at me, world. I'm wearing an outdated sweater and I don't care who knows it," I felt no shame in keeping it on all day--and even around people who weren't family members. The trouble will really surface, however, when I locate its (fraternal) twin--a lovely duplicate, but in pine green. Is this really a look that I need in two colors? Time (and a good reorganizing of some storage bins) will tell. Until then, however, I have an unexpected friend in the sweater formerly known as Sadness.</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: large;">Like Dewey Defeating Truman before it, this poncho-sweater hybrid had a rating even before I put it on today. I'm sure I can use that review on another sweater in the future, but for today, I'm going to have make some adjustments. </span></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiTRP80CMVUx6gB4Wp_vETCkdTotWi0l2sY-pF1WxYkwO-BPPMU6_YQ4TAKw7H9BCjrFOPr0uySOBZAmLcUChkId0LCT9P-_PnfFOeQtYaJIcDbkSIz4eDKdl5o-hcENOVCjgPa6tev9u1/s1600/image.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiTRP80CMVUx6gB4Wp_vETCkdTotWi0l2sY-pF1WxYkwO-BPPMU6_YQ4TAKw7H9BCjrFOPr0uySOBZAmLcUChkId0LCT9P-_PnfFOeQtYaJIcDbkSIz4eDKdl5o-hcENOVCjgPa6tev9u1/s400/image.png" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Rating: Herry Monster</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Is Herry anybody's favorite Muppet from Sesame Street? Can anyone actually name a skit in which Herry was a featured performer? Probably not, but that doesn't mean that, like this sweater, Herry doesn't get the proverbial job done. No fanfare, absolutely zero promotional merchandise, and very little excitement to surround a swing-style grey open-knit sweater or a blue Muppet that is neither Cookie nor Grover, but let us not allow that to diminish its worth. There is room in this world (if not my closet) for supporting players, be they grey sweaters or blue Muppets.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Verdict--keep. Possibly even wear again. But if anyone has a costume party to go to in the near future, let me know (or HMU, as the kids say)--I'll even throw in the blue wig and glasses.</span>Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-54096620461149456242019-11-18T12:34:00.002-08:002019-11-18T12:34:56.339-08:00Hot Chelle Rayon--The Comeback Commences<span style="font-size: large;">You know when you have a friend on social media and all of a sudden it's radio silence? Did they "unfriend/unfollow/block" you? Do you blame some new metrics on this platform (thanks, Mr. Zuckerberg/Tom from MySpace), or has this casual acquaintance simply moved on with real life (one without whimsical backgrounds and Carlton giphys)? Well, in some way, the same could be true of this blog. Did you get ghosted by 100 Days of Sweaters? The better question probably is, like Hot Chelle Rae before it, why did this blog suddenly disappear, just when things were (literally) heating up? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The simple answer was that it was a lot to keep up with. I took this blog more seriously than I ever have any diet/health regimen/skin care routine--but it took its toll. When one is still coming up with "clever" asides about J. Crew mock necks (which are back--dare I?) in mid-July, fatigue is inevitable. Y</span><span style="font-size: large;">es, I did wear 100 different sweaters for 100 days. And because I started so late in the year, I was actually wearing them in late May (I was the sole person who was excited for the "unseasonably cool" spring). I felt like a (somewhat) changed person. No longer would I buy sweaters in multiples. Keep a sweater around merely because it was the lone representative of a particular color? Perish the thought. And the overriding gestalt shift for me was that the world would never stop making sweaters. There was no need to hang onto a painfully itchy Old Navy cowlneck for fear that said knitwear represented the very last opportunity for warmth that I'd ever be granted. While I don't usually see cable knit v-necks being donned in post-Apocalyptic film scenarios, I still feel quite confident that I am amply prepared for the unlikely event of a sweater scarcity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Looking back, I'd like to say that I have hung onto to those lessons (like a unnecessarily cropped Hollister hoodie from the aughts). Alas, such is not the case. With challenges like Stitch Fix (so you mean I can write an anonymous person and tell her that I want a package of all sweaters? Is this real life?) and the proliferation of online shopping opportunities, did any of these aha moments really stand a chance? Marie Kondo or no, I will always find room at the inn for a sweater seeking shelter from the storm. And now more than ever, I need not worry that those pants with the faint thread of chartreuse will not find a coordinating sweater with which to pair because, real talk, don't we usually just give up and throw on a black sweater anyway?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Although I'm not looking forward to getting the side-eye from the public when I sport one of The Limited's finest rayon shrugs, I realize that the time is probably right for this blog's comeback. I don't see any end to my romance with this particular genre of clothing, nor do I plan to spend this winter cozying up in one of those corduroy blazers I thought I needed back in 2006. I'm not promising that I'll have tougher standards at the sweater border this go 'round, but I also don't feel great about some of the pullovers that narrowly escaped from100 Days of Sweaters, now living in cozy conditions in a rent-controlled storage unit. And like Dancing with the Stars this season, the rules will be loosened up a bit, mainly so that I'm not wearing a Sean Spicer caliber cardigan when I'd rather give some airtime to one of my (gulp, many) Anthropologie additions from this season. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">To quote those great bards from Whitesnake, here I go again (Tawny Kitaen not included).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Aside--I never got to blog about this beaut. It was slated to be Day 101 (talk about going out with a bang). Had I actually completed this entry, I might have called this a crime against knitwear (would I have said, "You give cowls a bad name?" We'll never know). </i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-41308176131848444632013-10-29T07:23:00.003-07:002013-10-29T07:23:55.581-07:00Day 63 -- Itchy Business<i>Below is the original musings about this sweater...written exactly 8 months ago. Apparently, I was overcome by the greatness of this Abercrombie crewneck and could no longer continue my evaluation.</i><br />
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Sunday, Feb. 24<br />
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It doesn't take Dionne Warwick or the Long Island Medium to see the writing on the wall: "This sweater, while somewhat high maintenance, is still perfect for those Sunday afternoon errands followed by hanging around the house pretending to care about football or watching a <i>Dance Moms</i> marathon. And it's such a great shade of orange to boot." I guess I don't even have to bother wearing this today then, do I? Or do I? What if it is dramatically different than his oatmeal brother that I suffered through earlier this week? What if the boxy shape is actually a plus, and makes my boring old corduroys suddenly seem straight off the (Old Navy) runway?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The day they perfect the technology to actually<br />
feel something that you see online, I'm going to<br />
submit this picture. I'll call it itch-o-vision.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJHSxq6BhihCGvClUXwZiguwseCuO0QNwk-YjctEuh2QG8N3VHKvE4T8Am7thkN06IJsWrNG6hPeWvE-rkFkMarOfrzUECZVvp4YBmBWGYCNMvcHwdNgkbFU__0fcsXQPjFgiOzSyiMna/s640/blogger-image--617413083.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJHSxq6BhihCGvClUXwZiguwseCuO0QNwk-YjctEuh2QG8N3VHKvE4T8Am7thkN06IJsWrNG6hPeWvE-rkFkMarOfrzUECZVvp4YBmBWGYCNMvcHwdNgkbFU__0fcsXQPjFgiOzSyiMna/s640/blogger-image--617413083.jpg" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div>
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<i>Did I really NOT caption this photo? Was there nothing about this sweater that made me wax poetic? How tragic!!</i></div>
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And that's all I wrote. Was it so incredibly comfortable, flattering, warm, and cheery (no, NO, sort of, and not really) that I could find nothing of note about which to blog?<br />
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Well, not exactly...but [spoiler alert] it made it through the rigorous cut last year (and was neatly stowed in a sweater bag on my shelf), so there must be something that I liked about this sweater. At this point in the sweater blogging, I had begun to be (ever-so-slightly) more discerning about what made it through the process, so I'm a bit surprised that this one was taking up so much valuable real estate in my closet (not to mention that large size sweater bag from The Container Store that it inhabited with no space for a pouch-mate).<br />
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So, as a welcome back to the blog, I will wear this one again. If I liked it enough to give this vintage (and by "vintage," I mean mid 90s...in the life of an Abercrombie sweater, that's practically a senior citizen) crewneck its very own sweater bag, I certainly can find it in my heart (and closet) to give it another whirl today. Because it is "in season" right now, I think this will be the perfect opportunity to put this sweater through the ringer (but not literally...I think that would be even more cruel than it's powerful itch fibers are being to me). As has been established, orange sweaters are my kryptonite (okay...pretty much any sweater is my kryptonite, but orange is the deadly kind that forces Superman into the Bizarro world--and that's based on my viewing of <i>Smallville</i>, so there might be some errors there). And this is not just a plain orange...it's chunky, and laden with harvest colors. So, while I know for a fact that this sweater (barely) survived the cut the first time around, I'm wondering if it will actually hold up to my standards this time. </div>
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As soon as I pulled it over my head (wearing my usual brand of "first layer" shirts...not too thick as to disrupt the integrity of the sweater, but substantial enough to provide warmth), I wondered what kind of anti-biotics I might have been on last February...because this fella was one big orange ball of itch. Constantly. Sure, had I been frequenting Coldwater Creek or possibly the matronly section of L.L. Bean, I could have picked up a cotton turtleneck in a sensible color that might have protected me from the abrasions from this sweater...but there was no such armor today. This brother scratched me like an S.O.S. pad all day (and, unfortunately, this was a day in which I started work at 6 a.m., so it got in a lot of extra itch-time). Could I really justify keeping this sweater simply because it's got such a great autumnal color to it? Perhaps it's time for one of those Pro/Con lists I read so much about in <u>Readers' Digest</u> (while wearing my Carroll Reed cotton turtleneck, of course).<br />
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<b>The pros: </b>It's a really great color of orange--dare I say, "pumpkin spice?"</div>
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It is nice and big, and doesn't cling to any part of my body.<br />
It is short, which enables a breeze to come up the sweater, which offers<br />
some temporary relief from the itchiness.<br />
It's warm (because it's a sweater and it's made out of wool and that's the job of <br />
a sweater).<br />
<b>The cons:</b> It is itchy. Oh, how it itches.<br />
It has kind of a weird shape (or shapelessness) to it. Not exactly flattering. <br />
It is short, which enables a breeze to come up the sweater.<br />
It is warm, but not very cozy...BECAUSE IT REALLY ITCHES!<br />
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In this case, I believe that the cons far outweigh the pros. Until the day that the government shutdown affects sweater manufacturers (especially those that specialize in deliciously autumnal shades of orange), I don't feel that I need to hang onto every sweater in this color family. Because, unlike how I might have felt before I started this blog, I am not actually<i> saving</i> any money by hanging onto this sweater. It's not as if I'll walk into a store, see a beautiful orange crewneck and think, "Oh, this is lovely. But I already have a sweater in this color, so that's $60 that I won't have to spend. I guess I'll just use this money to purchase some hydrocortisone cream to put on my skin to relieve the itching from my Abercrombie & Fitch orange sweater."<br />
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<b>My rating: </b>Tom Cruise. I realize that it's almost impossible to talk about Mr. Cruise without bringing up his couch-jumping-Matt-Lauer-baiting-Brooke-Shields-hating behavior of late...and that's entirely my point. There was a time when I would see a movie simply <i>because</i> Tom Cruise was in it (and, yes, that includes <i>Cocktail</i>). Now, and I doubt I'm the only one who feels this way, I will <i>avoid </i>a movie for the very same reason (and when I slip and accidentally see a movie he's in, I get left with<i> Rock of Ages</i>. Serves me right). Sure, he still has his looks, talent, and his winning smile, but, underneath it all, there's a whole lot of itching. Although I have trouble reconciling his work during <i>The Outsiders</i> through the <i>Jerry Maguire</i> era with what he's become lately, there isn't enough Aveeno or Gold Bond Medicated Cream in the world to get me to admit to being a fan of Tom Cruise anymore. While you might get a few compliments on the lovely nutmeg (or is it allspice?) color of this sweater (although I didn't get any), and some thought that Cruise's performance in<i> Tropic Thunder</i> stole the show (Wrong! Robert Downey Jr. did...and was nominated for his work, so there!) does that outweigh the constant irritation by its woolen fibers and smugger-than-smug attitude? After surviving the original War of the Wools, this sweater has just become the next casualty. It had me at "orange," but it left me at "seriously itchy."</div>
Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-92085780566287006742013-10-24T06:27:00.000-07:002013-10-24T06:27:00.761-07:00Day 62 -- Zig Zagnut (i.e. the candy bar that one can only find at gas stations in the Midwest).On a recent season of America's Next Top Model, Tyra Banks decided that it would be a good idea to give all of her would-be runway walkers the "gift" of a super power (or, in this case, super <i>model</i> power). As she is well on her way to total and complete dictionary domination ("H to T modeling," "Booty tooch," and, how could I leave out, "Smize"), it was about time she unearthed yet another Tyraism...Intoxibella (which means, of course, "Super Model.") On this very special episode, Tyra assigned one of the "beautiful young women I have standing before me," the Intoxibella power of "Zagalicious." According to Madame Smize, this model "zagged" while the other models "zigged," (or was it the other way around?). After every photo shoot, Tyra would either commend or scold this model for her use of this Intoxibella power. In the end, Zagalicious did not see her photo, and, therefore, had to, "Immediately go home, pack her bags, and leave the competition forever."<br />
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All of this is to say that I feel that, were today's sweater a competitor in <i>Model Land</i> (the title of Tyra's Pulitzer prize-winning novel), it would have that same Intoxibella power. Some grey cardigans just button up...this one is Zagalicous. Will I be able to handle this superpower, or will I send this sweater home to pack its bags and leave the Top Sweater house immediately.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiCSRFS_1afqb-FpVWLZl0Ke4v7Ayg3qyXP7kSCP6JXujmaPex6DXnWviKBFaUStpdOy5ayQQoNbJrtNikjNLmMXkpvuTwO7kgFI2t2WTTs2Gd7tTs19kcqYAtQbHAEWJVlOyPPXsMJmAO/s640/blogger-image--1691153395.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiCSRFS_1afqb-FpVWLZl0Ke4v7Ayg3qyXP7kSCP6JXujmaPex6DXnWviKBFaUStpdOy5ayQQoNbJrtNikjNLmMXkpvuTwO7kgFI2t2WTTs2Gd7tTs19kcqYAtQbHAEWJVlOyPPXsMJmAO/s640/blogger-image--1691153395.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">To button or not to button: That is the question.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZXC-0KPNQY5cyTjd6JG3-OqOFs1JI9Ndqeg_EWUGaWafEKdcL1OCVRvKvkf31RkCnByATMwkDxH3yqeWwe17_-xjHU2Koxvs8fcr-Xu-9fGbbw_VdGgy3GYRvUdXAe6S2MRZNsdG376_/s640/blogger-image-938122894.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnZXC-0KPNQY5cyTjd6JG3-OqOFs1JI9Ndqeg_EWUGaWafEKdcL1OCVRvKvkf31RkCnByATMwkDxH3yqeWwe17_-xjHU2Koxvs8fcr-Xu-9fGbbw_VdGgy3GYRvUdXAe6S2MRZNsdG376_/s640/blogger-image-938122894.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This ain't your grandmother's grey cardigan.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1w5k7SXcyClVuounRq4-xXDcL9SkGxMmuMSFRtGq0mIagxwyU1XrMu4Oba6UWd_r6I4WckT78K055Scs2HD1XbkKJf8Rix5dXRohy0Sv5q4tJxjoZAjWH5pEt9n8l9GJfa33Fng0Sf3e/s640/blogger-image-1679393273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg1w5k7SXcyClVuounRq4-xXDcL9SkGxMmuMSFRtGq0mIagxwyU1XrMu4Oba6UWd_r6I4WckT78K055Scs2HD1XbkKJf8Rix5dXRohy0Sv5q4tJxjoZAjWH5pEt9n8l9GJfa33Fng0Sf3e/s640/blogger-image-1679393273.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, the moths didn't get this sweater--it's a whimsically placed buttonhole.</td></tr>
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My Mom gave me this sweater, so you can all rest assured that it's of the finest quality (cashmere, of course), and was meant to be worn with something other than Adidas track pants (sorry, Gap turtlenecks...you never get that luxury). I think that the only reason that I have not worn this sweater too much (or ever?) is because I was a little bit intimidated by those buttons. What's the protocol here...do I button some of them...all of them...none of them? <br />
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After spending the day in this sweater, I'm still not sure that I can pull this much look off. I did go out on a limb and belt my waist, so that I would at least appear that I knew what I was doing. I tried for that effortless,<i> qui moi?</i> look...as if I just finished my morning at the fresh flower market (or do they have those only in movies?) and am now headed to a gallery to see the latest installations by one of my favorite artists (neither of those activities, by the way, actually sound appealing to me). Instead, I had diagonal buttons, a belt just under my sternum, and a skirt that had Ray Bans printed all over it (hey, just because I still grant asylum to mock turtlenecks under my roof does not prohibit me from having <i>any</i> kind of stylish clothing). I think that once I figure out how to wear it (right now <i>it's</i> wearing <i>me</i>), this sweater will become my choice to make a dull outfit just a wee bit more "zagalicious."</div>
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Blogger's admission: I wore this one again (I may not adhere to the rules of of the food pyramid or even Draw Something, but I am very good about sticking to the doctrine of the knitwear). I think that it works best with a skirt or a dress, and looked much better when I didn't button every button. I always seem to have a problem with that...I feel like not buttoning something is an admission that it doesn't fit. Apparently, that is not the case (which I should remember from Carson Kressley's "Sometimes, Always, Never," rule when it came to buttoning jackets...or is it the other way around?).</div>
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Re-admission: Since I still haven't caught up, I relegated myself to only wearing repeat sweaters, lest I get even more behind (not that anyone is watching me, but I would hate to skirt the rules, even if I did create them myself). Hence, I'm giving this one its third go in a little over a month. This time, I put this zagalicious cardigan with a pair of corduroys (let's pretend that these were the stylish kind...not the ones that are still in your closet because they're "so comfy"). Once I got over the whole buttoning dilemma (since the sweater comes up ever so slightly in the front, I decided to go Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle and button. every. last. button. And, hey, it wasn't even that bad (because, of course, I have six-pack abs, so cardigans always lie flat). "Lie" being the operative word there. Or is it "lay?"<br />
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So, grey cardigan, congratulations. You're still in the running towards becoming my next top cardigan.</div>
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My rating: Scott Caan. Just a bit off-center, but fairly conventional at heart. He's not the typical "heartthrob" type actor (I doubt that, even if it were age-appropriate, he would ever be featured in<i> Bop</i> or <i>Teen Beat</i> magazines), but there's something indisputably charming about him. Sure, these buttons are a bit daunting and there are times that he walks a little bit too much like his father, but sometimes a little left of center works (hey, wasn't that a song in<i> Pretty in Pink</i>?). Usually, I am wary of any tweaking to a successful ensemble cast (<i>Gossip Girl</i>, my perfectly manicured hand is pointing squarely at you), but, surprisingly enough, Scott Caan actually blended in quite well with the cast of <i>Entourage</i> in its later seasons. Although I am purely Team Johnny Drama (Kevin Dillon, of course. I don't think I've ever forgiven Matt Dillon for some of the tough delinquents that he played to perfection in the early 80s), I have to give it to Mr. Caan--he manages to steal almost every scene that he's in (which, admittedly, is not hard to do if the scene involves Turtle or E). I must confess that I am not a regular viewer of <i>Hawaii 5-0 </i>(and that even included the episode that Rick Springfield was in), but, from the clips that I see of it, it appears that Mr. Caan's charisma and cock-sure attitude are in full effect and really take command of that show. Sure, most of the time we want our cardigans to play by the rules, but every so often it's nice to find a maverick out there who is willing to buck convention and do things his own way. Book this cardigan, Danno (yeah, I went there).</div>
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-44756648116523929232013-10-22T06:57:00.000-07:002013-10-22T06:57:35.096-07:00The Poncho That Brought Me Back.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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Remember those early days of the Internet, where life was simple (except for making mix-tapes--that was still difficult ) and it was actually a novelty to "chat" with friends online (which usually equated to people saying, "Hi, where's everybody from?" right in the middle of the rest of the room's conversation about last night's episode of <i>Suddenly</i> <i>Susan</i>). At some point during all of that, I recall finding it actually fun when a friend would unexpectedly perform the cyber-equivalent of tapping me on the shoulder...yes, the good old "Instant Message" of yore. At first, we all enjoyed the "Hey, what are you doing" routine...especially since we were probably on AOL to get our email in a time in which Tasmanian diplomats hadn't figure out that email was a more efficient way to reach us than phone calls during the dinner hours. A few <i>bon mots </i>exchanged with our long-lost person that we see every day at work, and we were back to trying to navigate AOL's still-chartered but ever-so-slow waters.</div>
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But oh how the tides turned (both for AOL and Instant Messages). Now, I'd sooner log off Facebook and my sure-to-clear-all-the-jelly session of Candy Crush than to be spotted by anybody online. Not that I don't want to "talk" to them...it's just that I have the social media attention span for a sum total of one Maru video, a George Takei pun, and whatever Sesame Street or Muppet meme is going around these days. I'd rather not use social media to be, ahem, social.</div>
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Flash forward a few years (but the sweaters remain. Oh how they remain). It might not be a tug on the sleeve or a virtual poke, but I have something just as intrusive now (and it's far more guilt-inducing). Yes, it's called (in the spirit of the early 90s) "My So-Called 100 Days of Sweaters." I realize that I don't actually have readers out there who are worried about my well-being and wonder what happened to me after the travesties of Day 61 (hey, that snowflake sweater really wasn't deadly. I actually found it kind of sweet...even if I did wear it in meteorological spring)--if there are any of those people, I assure you that I'm fine and no worse for the (100 days of) wear. </div>
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And, yes, I really did wear 100 sweaters last year...in fact, I wore 101 (the hidden bonus track that was so prevalent in 90s/2000s CDs). I actually could have kept going, but forced myself to stop the experiment, even if the weather dictated otherwise. I really was diligent about it...so much so that when it remained cold well into May, I did not allow myself to wear any sweater that I hadn't already written (or planned to write) about. Why waste a perfectly good entry for next year's extravaganza?</div>
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Except for one thing: as much as I adore sweaters, I find it really difficult to write about them once baseball season has started (and, yes, I did re-wear one of the former contestants on opening day...and found it lacking). Even though that little "to do" icon on my computer showed a shameful crimson "39" every time I turned on my computer, I was able to block it out for a while. Those 39 entries would get done sometime, just not when I had such important things to do like complain about those infernal "Back to School" ads in July or ponder that moral dilemma about whether it's okay to sit inside watching "Pretty Little Liars" if it's really hot outside and, if I were outside, I'd just be running the air conditioning in my car which is, of course, bad for the environment (plus, I left off on a really good episode and I seriously need to know who "A" is). Eventually, that garish "39" became white noise and I could enjoy Grumpy Cat in peace.</div>
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That is, of course, until this little beauty popped up on the side of my Facebook page (and, yes, I'm sure there's a way to turn those off--but, sometimes, they provide lovely products such as this).</div>
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What's that you say, Facebook? A Michael Kors poncho in my favorite color that also features a turtleneck (perhaps a cowl, but it didn't look like that in the pop-up that I saw)? Where do I sign up? It turns out that I had merely to click on the poncho, enter a few numbers (otherwise known as my credit card numbers) and then, voila, it was mine. I mean, it has to be stylish...it's Michael Kors (and from his commentary on <i>Project Runway</i>, I know that he has no intention of making me look like "A Mother-of-the-bride on crack," or a "Schlumpy woman at a buffet on a cruise").</div>
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In my mind, a poncho (and one in harvest colors, no less) signifies fall activities like no other. If I'm not playfully raking the leaves (taking time to undue my work by jumping in a leaf pile or two), then I'm most certainly in a corn maze at a pumpkin patch, smugly wearing my poncho while eating that ideal taffy apple (no nuts, just candy bits or cookie crumbs). As the sun sets on that perfectly crisp autumn day, I hold my hot apple cider in one hand and fresh kettle korn in the other, and am so content that I could spend this day in my Michael Kors poncho (or any of the other ponchos that I have purchased over the years...all in the hopes of living this same moment). All is right in my world and in this poncho.</div>
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So here's a word that you don't often see in my life (except when it applies to a certain genre of TV shows)--<i>reality</i>. Yes, for a brief moment my sanguine moment in the apple orchard was interrupted by that little bugger. At first it was a small thought like: "But how will you reach up for that high apple if you don't have full range of motion in your arms?" And to that I replied, "But this poncho is superior to those ones in the past because it has sleeves," (well, they're kind of abbreviated, but they are still sleeves). And then it got louder, "But what if it's really cold at that football game you plan to wear this poncho to? Can you wear a coat over it?" Silly voice in my head, this is fall in the midwest. Every day will be a sunny 65 degrees and then will dip down to 60 just in time for that bonfire. But that voice remained, and it didn't give up. Whatever whatever...I will find a way to carry a purse (that's why they created clutches), drive my car (both hands on the steering wheel is so last century) or swing that sledgehammer for that carnival game that they always have on TV shows at their Fall Fest where the bell rings and you win a really large and unattractive stuffed animal (my solution: I'll stick with the "Guess Your Weight" game because, in a poncho...who knows?).<br />
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And then there was a whisper...it was so quiet at first, I assumed it was the sound of the wind as I rode on that hayride after a trip to the most sincere pumpkin patch in town. But then it got louder and more forceful, and, finally, I could ignore it no longer: it was the cries of the turtle and cowl necks that had met their untimely demise on the blog. They were speaking to me from their graves (or at least their new homes...and maybe in a new incarnation like re-purposed mittens or cat toys) and they had just one word for me "neck." What were they talking about--this neck was great...it was orange and chunky and...oh, wait a minute. It really isn't sitting right, now is it? NBD (as the kids say)...the rest of the sweater is so cute that...hold on. This isn't a sweater. It's a poncho. And a poncho with a dubious neck has an entirely greater set of problems than a regular proletariat sweater. It's fine. I think.</div>
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After fussing with the neck a few times, I did the mature thing and put the poncho back in the closet and decided to think about it later. Then I also went to the Nordstrom website to read the comments section--oddly enough, nobody mentioned anything other than how large it was (something that I will almost never complain about). I went to other websites, but found nothing--except that every time I saw that poncho, I fell in love with it all over again. Such great colors, and did I mention that it's Michael Kors? Oh, I did? Sorry!<br />
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A few weeks later, I decided that maybe I had better heed the words of my fore-sweaters. If the neck is bugging me now, imagine how I'll feel at that proverbial pep rally? Why would a poncho get a pass from the rules while so many other, perfectly fine, turtlenecks be branded with a scarlet C (for cowl)? While I think that I could have lived with this neck being slightly thick and non-committal (Was it a cowl? Am I supposed to "slouch" it?), perhaps it was time for me to learn something from my past behaviors and this poncho became the innocent victim for my crimes of those 100 days. So, hat in hand (don't get me started on my hat collection. Another time, another blog), I brought this beautiful specimen back to his rightful home at Nordstrom. And that's when I saw this mannequin...taunting me, daring me (and, let's be honest, looking far better in this poncho than I did). And how come the neck looks normal on her? Maybe I should give it another try...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqVqPpmyGeIQtly5cXEdArUUmOejFQ_nAu2ZxK0z6NIDAnAHsIDIvohbgbAv7hvI-VHZWnuMYbqv0EKgn_Mgd1VPUZgsgd_9OoKIhiXGjAKlOqddTrrqGNJZRgYxSMTYKCcd0pq1j9pIqG/s640/blogger-image-2111916617.jpg" style="cursor: move; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;">If she had a real face, you would see it glowing. I almost want to buy this poncho all over again!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm sure at this point, those of you who are betting folk would put money down that I turned around and kept my poncho. Which I almost did. Had I not been in a remarkably speedy line at the checkout desk, I probably would have done just that. But I did it. I learned from my past mistakes and decided that an angst-causing turtleneck (no matter what his pedigree is) will never bring me the happiness that I have come to expect in a sweater. Congratulations, me. I have finally turned over a new (albeit changing color) leaf.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And yet, even as I was leaving the store (for once, $150 richer), I was wistful. Whatever will I wear when I go to the town's annual pumpkin carving contest? Because I'm so the type to just grab a pumpkin spice latte (except I don't really drink coffee), throw this on over my (non-existent) skinny jeans and go.</span></div>
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Oh, but wait...I can totally justify this purchase when it goes on sale. I mean, at the inevitable $69 price, this is practically a steal, right?<br />
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And that's when I knew that, despite spending well over 100 days wearing sweaters of questionable taste and quality levels, I still have a lot to learn. Not the least of which is that waiting until, oh, say, January, to add this sweater (okay...let's face it...it's a damn poncho) to my collection will only ensure that it never gets worn. Because while I may not have changed my wicked woolen ways entirely, I do know that sweaters in harvest colors do not make the grade in January. Not only can we not visit an operative pumpkin patch over MLK weekend, if we did, we would most certainly need to wear a coat...which this PONCHO does not allow. So, while I might save a few dollars buying this on sale, I would almost certainly never get to wear it, rendering it practically useless (which, for a poncho, is, admittedly, redundant). All of which makes me think that I should have kept it, and were it not for that meddling neck, I might have done just that.<br />
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The fact that I'm still kept up at nights going over this transaction in my head makes me realize that I will never get any peace if I don't at least finish last year's blog. Or, at the very least, spend a week trying to act like a functioning human being, all the while wearing a poncho. That ought to cure me of my affection for them (or at least the notion of them). Either that, or I'll come up with a whole set of coping strategies for how to eat corn-on-the-cob, pump gas, and do the Gangham Style dance without the full range of motion that a poncho prohibits.<br />
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So I'm going back to the blog. It won't be fun. It won't be pretty. But it is necessary. I have all of these sweaters, their school pictures at the ready and in draft format...all awaiting my wit (or, at the very least, my extensive use of parentheses and ellipses). I did consider not allowing myself to wear any new (or unwritten about) sweater until I finished the entire blog...but, c'mon. That would be seriously cruel..and I have such a great cinnamon (or was it allspice?) half-zip sweater from Boden that is just waiting for a day at the Fall Fest. Or the football game. Or the hayride...<br />
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Yeah, I need to do this. Bear with me. I'm still learning...<br />
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<i>Blogger's note: I still haven't gone back to re-purchase that poncho. But, let me tell you, just looking at these photos is similar to showing pictures of chocolate chip cookies to someone on a diet (also me). So tempting! But, as they say, those who does not learn from the past, is destined to wear a cowl neck...or a poncho...or a mock neck...or a funnel neck...or...</i></div>
Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-58313747299811620522013-04-30T10:56:00.001-07:002013-04-30T10:56:09.835-07:00Day 61 -- Fortunate (Great-Grand) SonRight <i>after</i> your heart-shaped box of chocolates has nothing left in it but the odd ones filled with fruit and/or nuts but just <i>before </i>it becomes socially acceptable to eat a Cadbury Creme Egg, there comes a period of time formally known as "The Winter Blahs." The sight of snow on the ground has lost its charm, and the prospect of Spring Break (or even MTV's annual coverage of it) seems so far off. Worse yet, TV sweeps week is over so most of the best shows are reruns...or preempted by lackluster mid-season replacements. This is also the time of year in which most people proclaim that they are sick of their wardrobe and they start pulling out the spring looks.<br />
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I, however, did not pull out my Ann Taylor Loft pastel collection, and was secretly (I guess not so secret anymore) quite happy with the ugly turn that Chicago's winter took...especially since I knew that I could never get away with today's sweater if the words "unseasonably warm" were ever uttered on our nightly forecasts. As I have no intentions of breaking out the short sleeved wool sweaters (Bad. Idea.), I need this lingering chill in the air to remain for at least 39 more days. Oh, and a blizzard or two wouldn't hurt. It doesn't need to be on the level of the storm that almost shut down Christmas in <i>Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer--</i>it just has to be enough so that people actually take out those brushes from under their seats and dust off their windshields (I'm lazy...I usually just use my wipers and hope that the rest will just blow off. Again. Bad. Idea.).<br />
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So, since the meteorologists have all been calling for "substantial snow" this afternoon, I decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to wear this lovely little cashmere snowflake turtleneck from the early-to-mid 2Ks. It's an adorable shade of, well, what exactly would one call this? Lime? Spring green? Help me, OPI (Wan Kenobi)...you're my only hope (they would probably call it "Tom Green" if it were from their "Mid 90s: Where are They Now?" collection. Hey, if they can come out with a <i>Modern Family </i>collection, nothing is out of the realm of possibility).<br />
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Although this is a lovely little turtleneck, I wonder if there is a reason that I don't wear it very much. Either I'm intimidated by its cashmere lineage or, possibly, I folded it so neatly that I did not want to disturb its peaceful slumber in the armoire (sadly, that's actually the more likely of the explanations).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERtL63JcEQmb_IVkwUIdrY-LDt7gwRFQ0QYuF_t_AJawYfHXiP2rq2CX_e9pEk5cgMvRekPuplV_DvdwHN9sR5kb3n_tvBCGdiDWb4U5wXEBU5qyrphL4pplwyEoN-DanXypIXalus3oM/s640/blogger-image--1080381851.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERtL63JcEQmb_IVkwUIdrY-LDt7gwRFQ0QYuF_t_AJawYfHXiP2rq2CX_e9pEk5cgMvRekPuplV_DvdwHN9sR5kb3n_tvBCGdiDWb4U5wXEBU5qyrphL4pplwyEoN-DanXypIXalus3oM/s640/blogger-image--1080381851.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The message here is simple and uncluttered: snowflake. That's it.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahspe_yKIuaGjDSPPoH6GbLpfY-RCV3KJqShFgDNmITVwq0EkVd2itfVNTjAdtHhCPzfn2DvvjblnVzs4p3GpWNRW-CzQoy8KNzfiBcZrGO1-tUfYr8TRe7fCGB13I729YtR0t9cfu7tX/s640/blogger-image--373723935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahspe_yKIuaGjDSPPoH6GbLpfY-RCV3KJqShFgDNmITVwq0EkVd2itfVNTjAdtHhCPzfn2DvvjblnVzs4p3GpWNRW-CzQoy8KNzfiBcZrGO1-tUfYr8TRe7fCGB13I729YtR0t9cfu7tX/s640/blogger-image--373723935.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nary a pill in sight. Impressive.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9DlSUulm-jKyXfZQsSd3nuQSZZggfWr9zFAUruyJgLtTW9bYxB-f2m0jxui7yTiSRC4I3_S3nY0OweKdyq1N8Wc6sLXylL1mmxZh0skBCXMbRpv3mMJpBzC7dypKYIjKPu95cQW3STAy/s640/blogger-image--897257962.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb9DlSUulm-jKyXfZQsSd3nuQSZZggfWr9zFAUruyJgLtTW9bYxB-f2m0jxui7yTiSRC4I3_S3nY0OweKdyq1N8Wc6sLXylL1mmxZh0skBCXMbRpv3mMJpBzC7dypKYIjKPu95cQW3STAy/s640/blogger-image--897257962.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"And the neck snaps back...wash after wash."</td></tr>
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<i>Even though I waited for a snowy day to wear this sweater, currently, I am blogging about it in the low 80s with the air conditioning on, and am wondering how I can possibly find nine more days to convincingly pull off wearing a sweater. Ah, procrastination...it's not just for college students anymore.</i></div>
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After wearing this all day, I am left with a sense of disillusionment at the sweater this might have been. Sure, the color and the graphic are adorable, and the neck never once caused me a moment's unease...still, the fit was slightly too slim for a sweater of this nature, and I found myself "willing" the sweater to instantly grow just a few inches longer on more than one occasion during the course of the day. Perhaps if it covered just a little bit more surface area, this might be the optimistic little turtleneck that I would gravitate towards in the most Gothic of winter days. As it is, I can't recall wearing this on more than a handful of instances (and even that might be a bit of an overstatement). In fact, were this sweater in a really ugly color (like, oh, "Shecky Greene"--can't believe I referenced him here) or featured any other winter symbol besides a snowflake (would anybody wear a sweater with a graphic of a plunging thermometer on it? How about a salt-covered car?), I might not be cutting it so many breaks. </div>
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So while it is not as perfect as it purports to be, it's a really cute color, it's well-made and the neck stays in place. I suppose it's not really hurting anything by hanging around the rest of my sweaters (maybe some of its good breeding will rub off on the acrylic factions), and there's always the hope that it will someday reach its true potential on my watch. And boy does it photograph well! I wonder if it's been surgically enhanced...or, at the very least, airbrushed.</div>
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My rating: Armie Hammer. And I can already hear the collective, "Who?" all over cyberspace (or at least the two non-computerized, not-my-Mom readers that might accidentally stumble across this blog when they are looking for something better to read). You know him, even if you think that you don't. He played the adorable-but-uptight Winklevoss twins in <i>The Social Network</i>, and will also be appearing as <i>The Lone Ranger </i>(with Johnny Depp as Tonto. Will probably skip that one). He's also been in some other movies which I didn't see (c'mon...did anyone watch<i> J. Edgar</i>? Didn't think so). What separates him from the other really really good looking actors is that his last name is Hammer, (No, not as in MC, but that <i>would</i> be amazing). He is the heir to the baking soda fortune (am I the only one who didn't know that Arm & Hammer was actually kind of a real name?), and is, like this turtleneck, a product of very good breeding. He's one of those performers that is so attractive that you tend to overlook certain things like, oh, juvenile snowflake graphics, short sweater length, and not a lot of range in his acting abilities. Mr. Hammer might not be this generation's Olivier (as in <i>Lawrence</i>, not as in Halle Berry's hot fiance/baby Daddy/future husband <i>Olivier Martinez</i>), but he comes from good stock (cashmere), is quite attractive, and there is not a pill or blemish in sight. I might sometimes get confused between baking <i>powder</i> and baking <i>soda</i> when I cook, but I will never forget Armie Hammer when the recipe (or weather) calls for him.</div>
Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-12045386071542184562013-04-26T08:52:00.003-07:002013-04-26T08:52:33.985-07:00Day 60 -- How Now, Brown Cowl?Since I am an avid viewer of <i>Project Runway </i>(yes, and even the spin-off, <i>Project Runway All-Stars</i>. What can I say...I can't get enough of that Loreal Paris Makeup Room and the Lord & Taylor Accessory Wall), I am fairly certain that Fashion Week for the Fall lines has just recently taken place. All over the world, fashion editors are busy assembling their inspiration boards and attempting to find new and interesting ways to tell us to, once again, invest in military-inspired jackets and androgynous suiting.<br />
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My fear, however, is that the real fashion craze come September will be the triumphant return of the cowl. I can see the (cringe-inducing) headlines in the pun-loving <u>In Style</u> now..."Cowl-ing all Sweaters," "All about the Cowl," or, shudder, "Fall Cowl-ections." Maybe, if I just wait a few more months, I'll be fashion's new It-girl, my cowl-bedecked neck will be following in the high-stilettoed footsteps of Alexa Chung and Sienna Miller before her. My cowls might look, at best, out of place right now, but with the right media exposure and a few strategic re-tweets, who knows? The Lolitas in Japan might soon be abandoning their parasols, pacifiers, and pinafores in favor of some choice chenille cowlnecks. So I should probably hang onto all of my cowlneck sweaters, just in case...right?<br />
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This tan chenille cowl sweater hails from the early 2K Express sweater collection and, the savvy reader will notice its resemblance to the ill-fated sweaters of Days 50 and 54. Yes, it is the third in this series (and there are two more waiting in the wings. This is the knitwear equivalent of <i>The Partridge Family</i>...or, depending on your decade of preference, <i>Party of Five</i>). While his siblings met an unfortunate demise, every sweater is given a fair chance here (unless, of course, it has a mock neck. Then I make no promises), and I will judge this cowlneck on its own merits (assuming, of course, that it has any). And <b>when </b>cowls become all the rage and are more difficult to get than the latest It Bag from Balenciaga, you can all say that I was just extremely ahead of my time. Or maybe ten years behind...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTindeKQ7SC6QyiGXK7aKcgyLiQKMspq3EajZknm09bw_cSfD-xitTXbo6ufveMMb1UTk8GN3-QzGVssgihtpyz6QxjJnno43rfbNeGaoWDpR0GcWCzjGtjguwIEXdEE4xaBU1FBl4ugZz/s1600/blogger-image--586033872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTindeKQ7SC6QyiGXK7aKcgyLiQKMspq3EajZknm09bw_cSfD-xitTXbo6ufveMMb1UTk8GN3-QzGVssgihtpyz6QxjJnno43rfbNeGaoWDpR0GcWCzjGtjguwIEXdEE4xaBU1FBl4ugZz/s1600/blogger-image--586033872.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cowl neck? Check. Bell sleeves?<br />
Discount double check.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You think you're tired of<i> looking </i>at cowlnecks?<br />
Try <i>wearing</i> them day after day. After this experiment,<br />
I'm going to go through cowl withdrowl (sorry...I had to).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbNLkBx5aGS0Y3p6sL9WglaGAzLmWME03drcT5UuMW7MNExnEGm3I7yenVt9d0Z6ytKknsjQJD49SfCikfEz0-RiAQ-fbfJu8CkMy3bQBbfs_L6FUOMDe1AAbyt5quWiVA1uXIlKJqsg-/s1600/blogger-image--1385646672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbNLkBx5aGS0Y3p6sL9WglaGAzLmWME03drcT5UuMW7MNExnEGm3I7yenVt9d0Z6ytKknsjQJD49SfCikfEz0-RiAQ-fbfJu8CkMy3bQBbfs_L6FUOMDe1AAbyt5quWiVA1uXIlKJqsg-/s1600/blogger-image--1385646672.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a difference a flash makes. This sad hue<br />
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I've got to say this about the cowlneck--it makes accessorizing a snap. No necklace, no scarf, no 80s-inspired broach needed...just drape that cowl and go. While it is, in many ways, liberating, it certainly does not allow for much creativity and forces the sweater to do all of the talking. Which, in this case, was more like a whisper mixed with a mumble. Not that this wasn't soft, long enough, and, okay, fine...warm, but that's about where the praise ends. In fact, I forced myself to wear it again because I had absolutely no lasting impression of this sweater at all.<br />
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Upon second wearing, I started to see the proverbial cracks. The bell sleeves proved to be a bit cumbersome, and I didn't find the color to be any too inspiring (my Mom called it perfectly. "It looks like you're wearing a sweater made from a ball of twine." That's not exactly the words J. Peterman...or J. Crew, for that matter, would use to entice you to buy one of their sweaters, is it?). All in all, this was a fine, milquetoast sweater, but nothing more. While I might keep it on the roster, it is definitely benched, and is in danger of being sent down to Triple A.</div>
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<b>My rating:</b> Marlon Jackson (hey, it's better than Jimmy Osmond). As one of The Jackson Five, Marlon's visage may have appeared on many a lunchbox, album cover, or cheap 70s iron-on decals, but I challenge anyone to try to identify exactly which one is Marlon. Sure, everybody knows Michael, Jermaine, and, due mainly to the pure joy in saying his name, Tito...but how many people can point to Marlon and say, "Yep...that's Marlon. He's my favorite Jackson brother." Similarly, while this sweater was fine (and actually met a far better fate than befell his brothers), I sure couldn't pick it out of a lineup (and certainly wouldn't pick it out of an armoire). I am confident that he was a valuable asset to the Jackson 5, and while this was a warm and pleasant sweater for a random Tuesday afternoon, I feel like I've already given him more airtime than he really wants or deserves. <br />
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So, while I'm tempted to donate this sweater to charity, a certain song lyric keeps haunting me -- "Oh darlin' I was blind to let you go. But now since I see you in his arms<br />
I want you back." Okay, fine...I'll hang on to this one (for Michael's sake), but since I've yet to review the two remaining Jackson sweaters (one is a chunky grey, the other a lovely light blue), here's hoping the remaining members of this quintet are fine with Marlon remaining a solo act. Even the most fashionable of trendsetters would not wear a cowlneck<i> every</i> day. </div>
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-78703117607478455032013-04-24T18:25:00.001-07:002013-04-24T18:25:19.967-07:00Day 59 -- The 17 Year Itch<i>Gather 'round, kids, and I'll tell you a tale about a store called "Abercrombie & Fitch." Now, back in my day, they used to have a little something called "clothing." You would purchase these items, put them on your body, and they would keep you warm and protect you from the elements. I know that might seem like a tall tale, but it's the truth...ask anyone that hails from these parts.</i><br />
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Okay, now that I've got playing the part of Old Prospector out of my system, I can return to the business at hand. Of course, there is some truth to his, ahem, yarns. In fact, at one time, I applied for a job at Abercrombie (they were recruiting in the food court of my graduate school...I must have missed those Fortune 500 companies) and they told me that the dress code for their employees was, and I quote, "A flannel shirt, long shorts, and hiking boots." And this was long after the whole Seattle look had swept (and quickly fled) middle America. Although I haven't darkened their door for a long time (due to an unfortunate "ma'am" incident a few years back), I can be fairly certain that their tags no longer bear the phrase that is on this sweater's label: "Reliable Outdoor Goods," and that the only thing that's long in the employees' dress code is their legs peaking out under those Daisy Dukes--and that applies to the girls AND the guys). I guess this sweater could be considered one of the last of its kind...although I can tell you in all honesty that I never put it to the "reliability" or "outdoor" test. Maybe I will today (does walking through the parking lot to my car count?).<br />
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This Abercrombie sweater hearkens back to 1996 (although it is possible that I could have purchased it during the January of '97 after-Christmas sales..but, for the convenience of this title, let's assume that it was '96), and has siblings in orange (yeah!) and dark green (sigh of indifference). I know this for a fact because I wore the dark green version in support of the Green Bay Packers when they played in Superbowl 31 (I spared you the Roman numerals. You're welcome). It's not face paint, but, then again, I'm not really <i>that </i>into football--a tribute sweater is about as far as I'll go for the NFL. And it worked...the Packers won that Superbowl. Perhaps I should have worn that sweater more this past season...maybe Aaron Rodgers would have come to thank me personally in recognition of my efforts for his team (hey, I only said that I wasn't that into football. I never mentioned anything about my appreciation for cute quarterbacks). <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOHkSbtZ4BHivboZkTNvTEavGHGqOIjUGC8WHhzoxhqorkKAWyU_b8ZgROPTWbHJBty1TCZFBGLtaZ6Cp0cBLfLeK7IATPTCWHk40MJBbSmK-v0Pn6150nY5SQzJeN6KI0eO5aL51_p2L/s640/blogger-image-675891981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOHkSbtZ4BHivboZkTNvTEavGHGqOIjUGC8WHhzoxhqorkKAWyU_b8ZgROPTWbHJBty1TCZFBGLtaZ6Cp0cBLfLeK7IATPTCWHk40MJBbSmK-v0Pn6150nY5SQzJeN6KI0eO5aL51_p2L/s640/blogger-image-675891981.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some people like to start their day with oatmeal. As for me,<br />
I greet the morning in an oatmeal-colored sweater (and a Diet Coke).<br />
Only one of the above gave me enjoyment...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgop0iwb_o9lSrvAbK-mNyqa685J1LKxLYpWPuU8PthLd1Sy2hPPy9U8p3x2bF3jh-D8-JJe63_5W-m9M_Bso8JEjSvozXywXAFd5Qf6OPTJMtsTCVTBj6keSzewH3lWr3fdnWCSQm_f1Fm/s640/blogger-image-778613432.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgop0iwb_o9lSrvAbK-mNyqa685J1LKxLYpWPuU8PthLd1Sy2hPPy9U8p3x2bF3jh-D8-JJe63_5W-m9M_Bso8JEjSvozXywXAFd5Qf6OPTJMtsTCVTBj6keSzewH3lWr3fdnWCSQm_f1Fm/s640/blogger-image-778613432.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They may look innocent here, but those little wool fibers sure pack a wallop!</td></tr>
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As soon as I pulled this sweater over my head, I knew that I was in for a long and uncomfortable day. Despite the fact that I wore it with my usual layering tee (don't worry...I have more than one), I had the instant sensation that I was on a hay ride. The little fibers were busy itching me while I taught, and I found myself planning my day around when I could change out of this veritable hair shirt.<br />
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Since I have an older brother, I am well-versed in the ways of itching powder (it's not just for sleepovers anymore), and I can tell you that this sweater could hold its own against that vile substance any day. I can't figure out how I ever wore this sweater without breaking out into hives...or, at the very least, soaking in a bath of calamine lotion afterwards. The only reasonable explanations that I can come up with are that either wool fibers get itchier with age (unlikely), or that I wore this sweater with a thicker shirt underneath (perhaps even a mock-T, as was the style back then). My Lycra long-sleeved T was no match for the diabolical powers of this yarn, and I soon succumbed to the itchiness and waved my oatmeal-colored crewneck in surrender. Sure I was defeated in this battle, but I knew that the war is still waging on as there are two other family members out there, camped out in my closet and possibly infiltrating some of my cashmere sweaters' bunkers. Although this sweater kept my reasonably warm, it was neither soft nor was it fun to wear. I don't recall ever wishing that I had an oatmeal sweater to complete an outfit, and, if I did, I certainly wouldn't be coveting this particular boxy and unflattering over-sized crewneck. The only thing "good" about this sweater is written on its tag.<br />
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My rating: Gilbert Gottfried. I know, I know, his voice is his gimmick. I get it. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. He's annoying. Like this sweater, I can only take the irritation so long before I have to change (the channel, the DVD, or the sweater. Take your pick). I did enjoy his work in <i>Aladdin</i>...but that was in small doses and played to his strengths (read: He played an annoying bird. Typecasting, anyone?). I would no sooner watch a star vehicle featuring Mr. Gottfried than would I wear this sweater on an all-day field trip to some art museum in the city (complete with a long bus ride through rush hour traffic with screaming junior high students. Wow, that was vivid. Let's hope I never have to experience that). I can appreciate that he's still "reliable goods" and consistently finds voice-over work in various commercials and cartoons, but that's where I think it should stop. I'm the adult here...if a sweater is itching me, then I am perfectly within my rights to get rid of it. If a comedian is not funny and his voice grates on my very last nerve, then I am under no moral obligation to keep watching his stand-up routines. Hey, Dane Cook has a perfectly normal voice, and I feel no remorse when I turn him off the millisecond I see his smug little face, so why should I feel bad for disliking Gilbert Gottfried (as a comedian, of course. I'm sure he's a perfectly lovely person. Dane Cook, however, not so much). </div>
Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-319398270354640482013-04-18T12:21:00.003-07:002013-04-18T12:21:25.204-07:00Day 58 -- The Winter WarlockI don't know if I have some deep-seeded Elizabethan propensity to want to cover my neck, or if I just admire the turtleneck stylings (albeit under a leather blazer, of course) of David Hasselhoff on <i>Knight Rider</i>, but, if you haven't yet noticed, I have a lot of turtlenecks. And, for whatever reason, I seem to wear this one a lot. Which either serves to explain the number of pills on the sweater, or might give one pause as to why I am attracted to a sweater so disheveled (amateur psychologists...have at it). I think that I wear this sweater in the hopes that it will one day reach its potential...which is, of course, to be <i>that</i> sweater. The sweater that might inspire an ad in L.L. Bean to proclaim, "This is the sweater that will take you from dog sledding at your cabin, to a cozy night at home by the fire. Golden Retriever not included."<br />
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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."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9gewYE1QkIC3zfRIOhyB8HpqZINkPEjIthu5dyGWFOy1kF9t0UJOiZ0lWNe4fhAZdNJE34UyqoLxAeDx5zrQcpSt-5dPoYmDN7-vdGb3biZ6T_9_cqjwN9rjY439FgNTUY7tzGjaQvv_m/s640/blogger-image--1518854752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9gewYE1QkIC3zfRIOhyB8HpqZINkPEjIthu5dyGWFOy1kF9t0UJOiZ0lWNe4fhAZdNJE34UyqoLxAeDx5zrQcpSt-5dPoYmDN7-vdGb3biZ6T_9_cqjwN9rjY439FgNTUY7tzGjaQvv_m/s640/blogger-image--1518854752.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You've seen this sweater before...you'll probably see it again. The<br />
much-desired, rarely-achieved thick chunky turtleneck.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZzZ4M02mg2tjRSgbtnNBwr-TFkbIvlwxi3anqSRx5RNuSJpLNQLNIyWBRAeku-1s1Xc214LAGLNBi3gHGCPiYum2VVbT3GDJXtYPj6ZXpSf_yVcW0ZCwT-UpXMr5etQqK99zMNAYKDhWN/s640/blogger-image-555751919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZzZ4M02mg2tjRSgbtnNBwr-TFkbIvlwxi3anqSRx5RNuSJpLNQLNIyWBRAeku-1s1Xc214LAGLNBi3gHGCPiYum2VVbT3GDJXtYPj6ZXpSf_yVcW0ZCwT-UpXMr5etQqK99zMNAYKDhWN/s640/blogger-image-555751919.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, I didn't add an Instagram sepia filter on this image. That's<br />
what happens when you take iPhone photos at 4:30 in the morning.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6G9PiulsJ-Efby8f7sJ5l6mTN8E51SVu1uRnY3egL6iJsygjbE9be1t98lxfaTbI3_YLpnfi8gAoA8t-4iZP6nDCRCKOELUucH9Hkg-clvcRk4j0BL2bTyOSz7-GDGgtcauYOY09qNOL/s640/blogger-image-1664186627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6G9PiulsJ-Efby8f7sJ5l6mTN8E51SVu1uRnY3egL6iJsygjbE9be1t98lxfaTbI3_YLpnfi8gAoA8t-4iZP6nDCRCKOELUucH9Hkg-clvcRk4j0BL2bTyOSz7-GDGgtcauYOY09qNOL/s640/blogger-image-1664186627.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This reminds me of those horribly close-up photos of bugs that<br />
they used to have in <i>World</i> magazine (although this is much scarier).<br />
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I kind of "get" why I have worn this sweater so much over the past twelve (!) years (and, if you're doing the math, that probably brings me down to about sixty cents per use)--it is bulky (in a good way), soft, warm enough, and pretty much matches anything just by virtue of it being so dark and nondescript. However. It pills. It rolls up. And the neck kind of reminds me of that brace Mr. Duggins wore in that courtroom episode of <i>The Brady Bunch</i> (I can't believe that it took me until Day 58 to reference my favorite TV family). I'd like to think that I had a durable black turtleneck to throw on when the weather (or a bad case of whiplash) dictates, but I think I could do better than this (Please tell me that there's a better chunky black turtleneck sweater out there for me. Do they have a sweater version of match.com?). So, Mr. Gap Holiday '01...it looks like the pill-popping partying is all over for you. It's been a slice!<br />
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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 <i>Platoon</i>, <i>Wall Street</i>, and <i>Eight Men Out</i> signified the arrival of talented young actor , but it was his work in <i>Lucas</i> and <i>Ferris Bueller's Day Off</i> that caused me (thank you, <u>Teen Bop</u> 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). </div>
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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).</div>
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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 <i>Lucas </i>with the venom spewing, Panama-shirt wearing Lothario...and I'm not sure that I want to.</div>
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I gave Charlie (and this sweater) so many chances that I really stopped counting after a while. Even after the whole fiasco with <i>Two and a Half Men</i>, 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.</div>
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<i>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.</i></div>
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<i>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."</i></div>
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-5659781838044069122013-04-15T11:26:00.001-07:002013-04-15T11:26:10.828-07:00Day 57 -- Oh Captain, My Gap-tainI'm going to be honest here...I don't actually recall ever purchasing this sweater. Which is not to say that it was a gift (or, for that matter, "pinched" from a store)--all it indicates is that this lovely pastel turtleneck fell victim to over-packed sweater shelf syndrome. Had I not removed so many benign v-necks and ho-hum hoodies, this creme-de-menthe colored Gap turtleneck might never have seen the light of day again. Come to think of it, I'm surprised that it didn't still have the tags on it...or, at the very least, that clear sticker that I often forget to remove from Gap clothing that proclaims to the entire world that, yes, I'm wearing an L, and I'm darn proud of it. The tag indicates that it is from Holiday '05...which means that I probably purchased it in January in a feeble attempt to locate even more chenille turtlenecks from that collection (see: Days 24, 25, and 40). So I guess it has one thing going for it already...it's <i>not</i> chenille.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLfgtAu-7zajiW2ciqHcwRn8IgEuh-D4iCeAhUZePoqWgVEaqb7_yeqwv0vfM_mwWE3t7MCoL-JFMlDoVotfuZCvKi0lUQXSRUa8bgMfW8b0enTC5H8pH_Do4CkKOa6cE516hUsfqjX1h/s640/blogger-image--1741648365.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpLfgtAu-7zajiW2ciqHcwRn8IgEuh-D4iCeAhUZePoqWgVEaqb7_yeqwv0vfM_mwWE3t7MCoL-JFMlDoVotfuZCvKi0lUQXSRUa8bgMfW8b0enTC5H8pH_Do4CkKOa6cE516hUsfqjX1h/s640/blogger-image--1741648365.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anyone craving mint chocolate chip ice cream now?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This neck looks promising...but can it keep that promise?</td></tr>
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After what feels like <i>weeks</i> of ill-fitting sweaters (funny how one bad sweater can spoil and entire shelf of knitwear), I was not expecting much. Surely I had some reason for not wearing this sweater...other than an apprehension about how to match this creme-de-menthe color with anything in my wardrobe. So, much to my utter surprise, this little turtleneck restored my faith in the genre (at least temporarily...who knows what horrors await me over the next 43 days?). Okay, sing along with me, "It was soft, was long enough, had a cheerful color, and the neck stayed in place,"...(those lyrics aren't exactly Bob Dylan, but at least you can all understand them). The ice cream hue gave a hint of spring to an otherwise dreary February day, and at no point during the day did I fuss with the hem, neck, or sleeves. I guess I owe this wallflower sweater a bit of an apology.</div>
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<i>Blogger's admission: Yes, I did it again. So as not to get even further behind on my entries, I re-wore this sweater--just to refresh myself on its reported merits. And I have to say, I like it even more now. Of course this could be because I wore it right before Easter...when the jelly bean hue actually looked appropriate. Still, it was soft, had good give to it, and it definitely covered my own, ahem, jelly belly.</i></div>
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My rating: Robert Sean Leonard. As he comes from the early-90s tradition of the unnecessarily thrice-named actors (I get the whole hyphenated <i>last name</i> thing...but did we really need Penelope Ann Miller, Mary Kay Place, Tom Everett Scott, Mary Stuart Masterson, et al?), it is all too easy to overlook him, especially amongst the single monikered actors of today--Brad, Matt, Tom, Denzel, Yahoo (or am I the only one who still remembers his tour-de-force performance in<i> Young Einstein</i>?). But any fan of <i>House </i>will tell you that the interaction between Robert Sean Leonard's Watson (even typing it is cumbersome. Is he "Mr. Leonard?" Mr. Sean Leonard? Robert Sean?) to Hugh Laurie's Holmes was really the heart and soul of the show (with apologies to all of the viruses and bacterium, of course). </div>
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So why can't anybody name, with any confidence, any of the stars of <i>Dead Poets Society</i>--with the exception of Robin Williams (whose performance in <i>Patch Adams</i>, <i>Bicentennial Man</i>, and, honestly, most of his films from the past 10 years will earn him the not-so-highly coveted role as a really itchy, smug, and ill-fitting sweater rating if he's not careful) and the lovely autumnal colors? Perhaps his career would have taken off like chenille had he lost one of this names (his costars Ethan Hawke and Josh Charles are still finding work)--of course that would also mean that, like chenille, his once thriving career would have also reached its peak somewhere around the early part of this century. I'd like to think that Robert Sean Leonard prefers the slow and steady to the sprint...and is content to do quality television work or perk up a boring outfit when the opportunity arises. While he is often relegated to the back of the sweater shelf (or, even worse, the "I didn't know I owned this" pile), I'm sure he'd gladly accept that role over the high octane action films or insipid buddy comedies of his other three-named colleague, Seann William Scott (don't worry, Seann William, I am waiting for just the right sweater to name after you...and you'd better believe that it's got a cowl). This sweater might have taken a while to "Seize the day," but I certainly found it to be worth the wait.</div>
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-68872756332526890202013-04-14T09:56:00.001-07:002013-04-14T10:53:14.385-07:00Day 56 -- That 90s SweaterFeeling a little nostalgic for the days when Ricky Martin, Britney Spears, and the Backstreet Boys ruled the airwaves (so nice), cell phones still had antennas, and the thought of combining celebrity couples names (a la "Brangelina," "Bennifer," and, gag, "Kimye") had not yet been dreamt up? Although I probably haven't worn this sweater set since then, (remind me again when it was socially acceptable to wear a sweater set--let alone in chenille), I know that I have at least <i>considered </i>wearing it a few times over the past decade. Yeah, it's <i>that</i> old...can't you tell by its many wrinkles (the same cannot be said for Ricky...<i>Senor</i> Martin looks muy fantástico!).<br />
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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?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0I0bOzT8PF2L70wyUK_ZyLYneM5c1XY_S17TMfOIzPp-DESQcNwmh0paBhCVVhzPTcN_S3Q0Kh_xGAC07DtFGvv5K3TvSh6jenyNASzuZEASh0KsxufsZGybz6PmgA90MT49tavejLS8/s640/blogger-image-806897089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD0I0bOzT8PF2L70wyUK_ZyLYneM5c1XY_S17TMfOIzPp-DESQcNwmh0paBhCVVhzPTcN_S3Q0Kh_xGAC07DtFGvv5K3TvSh6jenyNASzuZEASh0KsxufsZGybz6PmgA90MT49tavejLS8/s640/blogger-image-806897089.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And of course I steam-ironed this before wearing it...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ZbYEFuxvlpOKYsHkK4kROWcejgdFXJFHG5omhlBM9LHx1ddUu2M3M7-zfrwjBV_bhrModtdQJIrGDdd0NP4NgtuzQoluBEI21Z2gwCOh_Q5liFzI-ip-6T2X22eRmINSXOrtmewWMJLN/s640/blogger-image--2078739816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ZbYEFuxvlpOKYsHkK4kROWcejgdFXJFHG5omhlBM9LHx1ddUu2M3M7-zfrwjBV_bhrModtdQJIrGDdd0NP4NgtuzQoluBEI21Z2gwCOh_Q5liFzI-ip-6T2X22eRmINSXOrtmewWMJLN/s640/blogger-image--2078739816.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
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The only positive thing that I can say about this sweater is</div>
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that it's really better looking in person. It's actually</div>
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a nice rich black...not this odd shade of sludge.</div>
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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.</div>
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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 <i>That 70s Show</i> 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<i> imdb.com</i> (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 <i>do</i> 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). </div>
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This sweater set, like Mr. Valderrama's intense social life, is best left in the late 90s/early 2000s.</div>
Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-90212506366672699622013-04-09T21:21:00.002-07:002013-04-09T21:21:41.187-07:00Day 55 -- The Most Dramatic Blog Entry Ever<i>Worn on February 16th...blogged, well, sometime when writing about sweaters seemed preferable to working on my taxes.</i><br />
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Although wearing a heart sweater two days <b>after </b>Valentine's Day might seem like an oversight on my part, make no mistake, it was all part of my master plan (do not insert a maniacal laugh...there is nothing devious going on here). As I will be attending the Sweetheart Open with several of my skaters this weekend (I guess they were hoping that Valentine's Day would fall on a weekend this year. As nobody says anymore, "Fail."), I figured that this would be an excellent opportunity for me to give this J. Crew newbie some airtime. I'm sure that, by now, most of you are thinking, "Newbie? Oh, that must mean that she purchased it sometime when <i>Mad About You </i>was still on the air." Ye of, well, I was going to say, "Little faith," but then I realized that I haven't given any of you any reason to assume that I actually own clothes that were constructed during the Obama administration. I do. I have plenty of sweaters from this year (oops! I might have made a few, ahem, investments in my wardrobe in January) and this would be one of them. It probably was slightly on sale when I ordered it, but not so much that I purchased it in a complimentary color or anything (I make no promises that it was the only sweater in the box, however). <br />
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Anyway, I have never worn this little lilac sweater, but am desperate to wear something that I don't have to make excuses for...except for explaining why I'm wearing what is clearly meant to be debuted during the weeks leading up to Valentine's Day. But I'm guessing that a group of skaters dressed in sequined ensembles and their equally bedazzled coaches will be a fairly easy crowd, so I should be safe on that front (but if my skater doesn't have enough glittery mascara on? Off with her head!).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJad_3UK0wYM40-zHKGrvl0CGcNcXCPReistC3dK_44ZAPsXa50MgXmT2HKeG9JzZNERDvZ6PBfpX2xAN5isAIFOBhybmQfrr-BLZnaaJupULjuv9a4AR_sFezcSrntfhcckaQbQGIpSqa/s640/blogger-image-1383678310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJad_3UK0wYM40-zHKGrvl0CGcNcXCPReistC3dK_44ZAPsXa50MgXmT2HKeG9JzZNERDvZ6PBfpX2xAN5isAIFOBhybmQfrr-BLZnaaJupULjuv9a4AR_sFezcSrntfhcckaQbQGIpSqa/s640/blogger-image-1383678310.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, I didn't get this at Forever 21 (it only looks that way).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Rj3LSiEx1FU3MPdzHhVCd5GQ2K3p1gPkjz5kjCQLr9FqUtbculQ3G7d5q9ldLMiSOjT9p-0r7C6WtYFcHnM7HKEPe_Nc21m_myLZGyiQfiDDKuoONJMTyniBtJ1uEGwHDNXeXNOtwrMK/s640/blogger-image--1287257531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Rj3LSiEx1FU3MPdzHhVCd5GQ2K3p1gPkjz5kjCQLr9FqUtbculQ3G7d5q9ldLMiSOjT9p-0r7C6WtYFcHnM7HKEPe_Nc21m_myLZGyiQfiDDKuoONJMTyniBtJ1uEGwHDNXeXNOtwrMK/s640/blogger-image--1287257531.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No pills, no cowls, no problems...</td></tr>
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Because this Whitman's Sampler of a sweater was so innocuous (there weren't any nuts or weird jellies that you'd mistakenly bite into), I can't say that I actually even noticed it during the entire day (which was long. So very long). This must be what normal people feel like when they wear sweaters. They aren't surprised when they fit (because, duh, they always try things on before they buy them), and they don't spend the entire day obsessing about the issues that irritate them about the sweater...because, again, they actually <b>tried the sweater on</b> before making the purchase. </div>
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<i>Blogger's guilty admission: I had to wear this again in mid-March...not because I ran out of sweaters, but because I honestly had very little recollection of any deeds (good, bad, or indifferent) that this sweater committed. </i></div>
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It was soft, fit nicely, and would have brought cheer to everyone who looked at it had I not covered it up with a heavy coat (that rink was frigid!) Maybe this sweater won't be around in twenty years (it does seem to have a rather limited window of opportunity for wearing), so I should enjoy it while it's here. I certainly wouldn't wear a heart sweater more than a few times a season, lest that become part of my costume should I ever need an avatar for a role-playing game (you sneer, but do you think Charlie Brown wanted to be remembered for his ill-fated choice to wear that zigzagged yellow t-shirt?).</div>
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My rating: Chris Harrison. He always seems to be enjoying himself (in the most gentlemanly way, of course), but when the occasion requires him to say, "Ladies, there is only one rose remaining" or "Coming up: the most dramatic rose ceremony ever, " he can do so without a trace of cynicism. Even though he appears to appreciate the humor intrinsic in much of his job, it is clear that he takes the bachelor/ette's quest for love quite seriously (even if they themselves do not). When it comes to romance, one needs only look to Chris Harrison (you thought I was going to say Fabio??) or this J. Crew sweater for a warm, loving, and classy (always classy) embrace.<br />
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Although he's been known to laugh at the hyperbolic nature of those "Most shocking elimination/revelation/graduation ever," voice-overs, he is somehow always able to maintain order in the cat fight that inevitably ensues on <i>The Women Tell All </i>episode<i> </i>and get everybody's claws retracted with a kind word and a knowing glance to the audience. He doesn't take himself too seriously (as it evident in the whimsical arrangement of these hearts...also in the entire three seasons of <i>Bachelor Pad</i>), but is always at the top of his game. While he may always be associated with roses, hot tubs, and "journeys," there is far more depth to Chris Harrison (and this sweater) than simply in matters of the heart. So, Chris, if you're offering, yes I will accept that rose.<br />
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-68521580950359772432013-04-07T21:46:00.000-07:002013-04-08T08:47:11.052-07:00Day 54 -- Lady Cowl-ey<i>(Worn on February 15th...if you detect some procrastination here, you would be correct).</i><br />
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While I had planned to wear shades of pink for the first 2 weeks of February, a little something called <i>Downton Abbey</i> 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).<br />
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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.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHh8IDXwVZfQyb0GspgKOhnbTOvfRX-2QbzEa_9f3zKcI_TruIIMUB3Eqt-C9_VT6QMU-2Q6ZmSgDhXFlW-YGHlhD97JVSpl_PWhZBTOMwgROp7DcMJ5cDcoNWVvs_rsmQpRcaGxUPT53o/s640/blogger-image-963879906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHh8IDXwVZfQyb0GspgKOhnbTOvfRX-2QbzEa_9f3zKcI_TruIIMUB3Eqt-C9_VT6QMU-2Q6ZmSgDhXFlW-YGHlhD97JVSpl_PWhZBTOMwgROp7DcMJ5cDcoNWVvs_rsmQpRcaGxUPT53o/s640/blogger-image-963879906.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This sweater looks like a celebrity trying to conceal her "bump." It would be better<br />
off trying to hide those emerging pills...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNW-SnYmhyphenhyphenY6UOQu-5VLDAwhzujbxReXV4qc6wtjqG_MBrxsDdbZYpdlNj8lsgI9xSPSc53qJUuI0OGzIOlEWqbYkOG7RS8D1El9cTS1AP19ecjd3IWgKzvSQNurX6MoMYG5xCsnS71Hn/s640/blogger-image-412840251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNW-SnYmhyphenhyphenY6UOQu-5VLDAwhzujbxReXV4qc6wtjqG_MBrxsDdbZYpdlNj8lsgI9xSPSc53qJUuI0OGzIOlEWqbYkOG7RS8D1El9cTS1AP19ecjd3IWgKzvSQNurX6MoMYG5xCsnS71Hn/s640/blogger-image-412840251.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wonder if people have been calling me "Crazy Cowl Lady" behind my back...</td></tr>
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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).<br />
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<i>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.</i><br />
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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 <b>not </b>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...".<br />
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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.<br />
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-65539274859962098712013-04-04T17:56:00.002-07:002013-04-04T17:56:32.685-07:00Day 53 -- You Look Marvel-ousBefore they changed the way that figure skating was to be judged (and, in the opinion of many skating coaches, ruined the sport for the majority of the viewing public), it was common knowledge that the first skater in each "flight" would not receive the highest marks. While this was often seen as unfair to the first skater in the group, it was an accepted practice in the sport and created much drama for the television audience of ABC's <i>Wide World of Sports. </i>The theory was that since they did not know the performance level of the skaters to follow, they always wanted to "leave room at the top" for the rest of the group. Or, to put it in more modern terms, if you give Louie Anderson an "8" on the celebrity diving (train wreck) show <i>Splash</i>, you've got to be prepared to give all of the divers that follow scores in the double digits (and that's including any and all aging child stars).<br />
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In the spirit of the old 6.0 judging system for figure skating, I too have been saving room at the top for one of my favorite actors. If he truly is the ultimate, then whatever sweater I name after him must be just as perfect. Do I even own such an item? Can there even be a sweater worthy of his rating? Plato would say that there exists a "Form of Perfect Sweaterness" (or, for his purposes "Wool Toga-ness"), and that all sweaters are merely imitations of that perfect form. If that is the case, then no sweater can ever be perfect, but some are better reflections of that ideal form, (and, with that, I've now utilized my minor in Philosophy...finally!). I would argue that while I might not have the true "Form of Sweaterness," I will probably come awfully close to it with my choice of knitwear today.<br />
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As The Most Interesting Man in the world might say, "I don't always wear this heart sweater, but, when I do, it's a thoroughly pleasurable experience." It "ticks" all the boxes (the more I blog, the more I appreciate British expressions)...it's soft, cute, just the right length, and, best of all, it is oh-so-cheerful. I don't<i> have </i>to wear this sweater on Valentines Day...I <i>want</i> to wear it on Valentines Day. In fact, I planned this month's selections out just so that I <i>could</i> wear it on February 14th (and, were it not for my lackadaisical attitude towards keeping up with these entries, my gentle readers would be scrolling through this blog with a chaser of Hawaiian Punch leftover from the classroom Valentines Day party --or maybe something stronger...although I'd be hard-pressed to find anything more "punchy," as it were). I definitely "heart" this sweater. </div>
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<i>Blogger's Note: While I did wear this sweater on February 14th as planned, I am slightly behind and am writing about it on April 4th. Apologies to any and all sweater purists out there in the blogosphere.</i></div>
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My rating: Robert Downey, Jr. Need I say anymore?! Well, even if I don't, I will because that is how much that I love and admire this exceptional actor. His talent is undeniable, but it is his personality and wry sense of humor that attracts me all the more. He has been through such extraordinary circumstances in his life, but has come through them as an even stronger, more beautiful, person. He is, dare I say it, a true Iron Man. Like this whimsical pullover, he is charming, intelligent, and shows his heart in everything that he does (and, in an added bit of synergy, the heart on this sweater replicates the external heart of Iron Man--which is just about as deep into the non-Archie comic book genre that I can get). He has the super power of making a "Genius, billionaire, philanthropist, playboy," just as appealing as an eccentric detective with a penchant for tweed hats and an aversion to filing cabinets. And, just to make this rating even more of a mobius strip than it already is, today is actually Robert Downey, Jr's birthday. His present to me? Years of entertainment. Mine to him? I named a sweater after him. Sure, it's not quite the Oscar that he so richly deserved for <i>Chaplin</i>, but it's the closest thing that I've got to that in my closet. Happy Birthday, Robert! You will always have my heart (sweater).</div>
Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-32823114834691885092013-04-02T10:24:00.001-07:002013-04-02T10:24:54.173-07:00Day 52 -- Pretty in Pink Back when Molly Ringwald ruled the earth (and what a glorious time that was), one couldn't wear anything vintage or pink without (consciously or subconsciously) invoking her royal redhead of the kingdom of the pouty lips. There was this notion that if Andie could take two perfectly lovely prom dresses and combine them to make something truly beautiful (actually, I think we all agreed that her dress was atrocious--if not derivative of Donna Karan), certainly we mere mortals could throw together a vintage look of our own (even if said vintage was from a mall store like Ups 'n Downs or Contempo Casuals) without too much trouble. There was something so effortless in the way that Miss Ringwald threw together those broaches, fedoras, and handkerchief-hem dresses...yet it was practically impossible for any of us to emulate her aesthetic successfully.<br />
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In fact, at my high school at least, those that dressed the<i> most</i> like Miss Ringwald's best characters (the hat trick of Samantha, Claire, and Andie...out of respect for my teenage role model, I'll try not to mention anyone from <i>Fresh Horses, For Keeps,</i> or <i>Betsy's Wedding</i>), were not necessarily seen as the most stylish of our classmates. Since we were all usually sporting Beneton's latest and greatest (always featuring argyle in some incarnation), it was very difficult for us to carry off the vintage sweater look with any credibility. I recall that someone in my English class had on a chartreuse beaded sweater which was clearly from the 50s, and I remember wondering if I could ever pull off that look (the answer...definitely not!). It takes a certain type of person (i.e. Molly Ringwald) to achieve that "Oh, is this sweater vintage? I don't even know where I got it...I'm too busy working at the used record store to be bothered to shop for clothes" look--and that person was most decidedly not me. But still I dream...<br />
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Of course, this sweater does not hail from thrift store (the Limited, yet again), but, its mid-90s heritage does almost qualify it as, if not "vintage," then definitely "retro". One has to wonder how many "Outback Red" or "Forenza" sweaters will be donned by future hipsters in search of "vintage" clothing. I'm pretty sure that 80s acrylic sweaters will decompose just after diapers and D batteries in the landfills--ensuring that future generations will also know the glories of the Shaker-knit v-neck (a misnomer, if ever there was one...I'm fairly certain that no actual Shakers, nor any Amish, for that matter, were involved in the knitting of those sweaters).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGMYQRY5_wVgDDIXvq5D-Weq72f3VLaDTv8ojqkseiljIeQ2u8a6VZQcIUJALxOJZQ5kmQpB9FHHMJnPeHgkXxVqdRfDDv5ZDjK7eCsu6hR3HoCvWxk-LOdB0y5p3pLbdAFggmZeaoXRSY/s640/blogger-image-916262453.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGMYQRY5_wVgDDIXvq5D-Weq72f3VLaDTv8ojqkseiljIeQ2u8a6VZQcIUJALxOJZQ5kmQpB9FHHMJnPeHgkXxVqdRfDDv5ZDjK7eCsu6hR3HoCvWxk-LOdB0y5p3pLbdAFggmZeaoXRSY/s640/blogger-image-916262453.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A look so demure, even a "richie" like Blaine would be attracted to it...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I think I can pass this off as this season's collection. According to all my<br />
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Umm...definitely not. This sweater was not on my body more than 30 seconds before I declared it to be far too short to be worn with my skating (or anything short of <i>Eight is</i> <i>Enough</i>-era waisted) pants, making it the record holder for shortest length of "wear-time" in sweater blog history. Also...the matching sleeveless sweater that goes with it (I believe my Mom calls that a "shell") was a size larger than the cardigan itself, making for a very awkward fit when the two of them got together. An emphatic "no," despite the cheerful print of those lovely roses.</div>
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But, upon further reflection, I decided that it deserved a fair shake in this competition and thought that it might actually look nice with a dress. But, since today I would not be teaching Lutz jumps dressed like Zoey Deschanel, I respectfully tabled this sweater for a future occasion.</div>
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What was I to do? I couldn't start an entirely new sweater today (there is no precedent for such behavior), but I certainly did not want to be accused of wearing a midriff-baring sweater set all day long. So I did the next best thing--I re-wore a (pinkish) sweater from an earlier blog. It was fine, but not exceptional. But since it had already past the test back in December, I certainly wasn't going to break its heart, especially being this close to Valentine's Day. This rosy sweater set would have to wait for a more appropriate test</div>
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Floral sweater--2nd attempt (almost 2 months later). </div>
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I paired this sweater ("pairing" sounds so much more stylish than "wearing") with a gray dress and a cute belt from Anthropologie. Although I didn't notice anybody rushing off to H&M or Charlotte Russe in an attempt to duplicate my outfit, I do think that I did a fairly convincing job of appearing current. I've seen nothing but floral, floral, floral in all of the fashion layouts this season (although, unfortunately, most of them are on "skinnies"--as skinny jeans are now known) so there's a chance that this sweater might even receive the highly-coveted but rarely achieved, "I love your sweater; where did you get it?" I can even imagine the "clever" puns that <i>In Style</i> magazine would use in their fashion spread for this sweater--"A rose by any other name..." or "Smelling like a rose," (not that mine are much better, but at least I have the decency not to paraphrase the Bard). </div>
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My rating: Robert Wagner. While he has numerous movies and TV shows to his credit (but let's not talk about those reverse mortgage loans commercials that he's been doing lately, m'okay?), most of us will forever remember him as dashing millionaire (and amateur sleuth) Jonathan Hart on <i>Hart to Hart. </i>And what befits a legendary detective/doting husband better than a well-tailored tuxedo? I think that "Mr. H" even slept in some sort of dinner jacket--in fact, the only time he was allowed to remove his tie was when he was skiing down a mountain in hot pursuit of a jewel thief (looking suave the entire way down, naturally). Certain people just look better dressed to the nines...such is the case with Robert Wagner (and, to a lesser degree, this sweater). In his world, there is no casual Friday--there are only degrees to the level of formality in his attire (all of which are seen to by his trusty valet Max--and his dog Freeway, of course). I would no sooner wish to see Robert Wagner wearing jeans (or would he refer to them as "dungarees?") then would I ever attempt to wear this sweater with anything other than a dress again. If Jonathan Hart can wear a tuxedo while hang-gliding off a cliff (once again, in hot pursuit of a jewel thief) than I can certainly find a cute belt and a dress to give this cheery cardigan another chance at life. And maybe I'll even attempt to chase down a jewel thief (while on skates, of course), while I'm at it...</div>
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-21471945229195260242013-04-01T09:21:00.003-07:002013-04-01T09:37:33.999-07:00Day 51 -- Think of LauraWay back in the early days of this blog (back before I realized just how much I was funding that infamous turn of the century turtleneck uprising), I reviewed a wintry little crewneck...and also mentioned that he had a twin (albeit fraternal...note the neckline). Ah, the innocence of Day Seven--before the suffering that was the mock necks, and while I still held onto the fleeting hope that, to paraphrase country singer Billy Currington, "God is great, beer is good, and chenille is cozy." So now it's time to put this twin up to the rigors of his button-shouldered crewneck lookalike. That sweater may have received his stamp of approval by Inspector 12 back in the day, but I've seen too much since that time (funnel necks? Oh, the horror!) and have emerged a more wizened and critical judge of sweaters (much like Miss Minaj on this season of <i>Idol</i>). Unless it's really soft...then, of course, all judgement goes out the window.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, I just hope that cute boy I sit in front of in Social Studies sends me a Valentine...</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who knew that American Eagle was capable of such intricacies in their patterns?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When worn on February 12th, these stitches actually resemble hearts.<br />
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<i>Full disclosure here: while I did wear this sweater on February 12th, I didn't exactly get around to writing this until...well, sometime after. I say this, lest you think that I might possibly deem this color pattern appropriate for early April. Which, of course, I do not...unless that's all the only colors I have left towards the end of this blog (49 days and counting...).</i></div>
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Okay, back to the task at hand--this early-mid 2Ks sweater from American Eagle (back before I got called "ma'am" on a regular basis while shopping there...Never. Again). Remember, part of this reason that I can get away with wearing 100 days of sweaters is because I work in an ice rink and am around children most of the day. So, while this sweater would look ridiculous around one of those long tables at which people have meetings while looking at a Power Point presentation featuring pie charts and bar graphs, it blends in perfectly well while chanting, "March, march, glide," to a group of Pre-Kindergartners (around these parts, it is no longer "Nursery School". Maybe it's so we don't mix them up with the local foliage?). I recognize that this isn't exactly haute couture here, and I probably wouldn't wear it out for a movie date with Nina Garcia (while that sounds like an impossibility, I <i>did</i> attend a luncheon in which Tim Gunn gave a lecture about his most recent book. And, yes, he was just as charming as he is on TV. Much love for Mr. Gunn...who would definitely not "Have a positive visceral reaction" to this (or any) turtleneck). But, for my tastes, it was long, soft, and festive in a mid-February kind of way. I'll hang on to it...but keep it on one of the higher shelves in the closet.</div>
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My rating: Anthony (or Tony) Geary. Yes, him. If you are not a regular viewer of <i>GH</i>, the lone picture in the Google images in your brain is his fuzzy hair encircling his receding hairline while staring adoringly into a feathered-hair Genie Francis' (heavily made-up) eyes. In fact, much like this sweater, you might only think about him once a year, but that's just fine with him. From everything I've read about him (in the dentist's office, perhaps), it appears that Mr. Geary accepts and cherishes his reputation as a veritable institution in Soapdom. This status allows him (and his character, the legendary Luke Spencer), to go off on various excursions throughout the year (how does Luke get away with simply running off for months at a time, with little or no contact with his family? He's Luke--apparently, no explanations are necessary or required). Although I almost never actually wear this sweater, when I do, I am rewarded with a warm and cozy friend, just like regular GH viewers (and Tony Geary fans) are treated to an under-rated (to the non-daytime TV world, that is) comic actor who literally steals every scene that he's in. He might never get the kudos that he deserves, but when you're looking for a little levity along with your romance, pull out this comfy turtleneck and hang out by the fireplace in the Quartermaine mansion (Is he still married to Tracy? I'll admit that I too watch <i>GH</i> only about once a year). But, do me a favor, easy on that eye makeup...</div>
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My rating: Anthony (or Tony) Geary. </div>
Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-48898371150284021222013-03-18T09:28:00.003-07:002013-03-18T09:28:59.258-07:00Day 50 -- "Nothing Gold (or Pink) Can Stay."<br />
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Day 50. The mid-way point. Winter (or at least winter sweater) weather is half-over. Or, as the sweater-hating pessimists might say, "I am so sick of winter. Can't we just skip to May?" If we did that, of course, I'd be the odd duck who was wearing Fair Isle sweaters at the Memorial Day picnic (which, as I recall, might be more weather-appropriate than shorts and a t-shirt).</div>
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So, since this is sort of our midterm break, I thought it might be nice to reflect back on what we've accomplished so far, and then set goals for the remainder of the term. Actually, let's just cut to the chase and tell you what you really want to hear: the body count. As of this posting, 32 sweaters have drifted up to that great armoire in the sky. This number is somewhat misleading, however, because it does not take into account how many new candidates are just waiting in the wings for their chance at stardom. These newbies will just have to keep on waiting, however, because I've still got piles of chenille, boucle, and cowl necks that still need to put through their paces.</div>
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Just to be clear, I didn't create this blog because I wanted to <i>cure</i> myself of this sweater affliction. If anything, I've become an even greater fan of knitwear after spending almost two months living, breathing, and blogging sweaters. So when I say that I may have added <i>a few</i> sweaters to my collection this year, I don't feel that I need to hang my head in shame. I will say, however, that I am now a lot more judicious in my sweater purchases ("More judicious than buying five mock necks in all different colors? Impossible!"). If something irritates me in the dressing room, it is unlikely that it will make it as far as the register (that is assuming, of course, that I even bothered to try it on before I bought it...which is also something that I am getting better about, thank you very much).</div>
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I did slip and "accidentally" click on a lovely sweater from Boden--in three different (but all entirely essential) colors--but I don't think anyone truly expected me to go "cold turkey" on my multiples addiction. The sad thing is that I honestly didn't even make the connection until just now...it's as if buying sweaters in multiples from the Gap, Abercrombie, American Eagle, and the Limited is a crime, but it's absolutely acceptable behavior when one is shopping online or from a British catalogue. I maintain, however, that these crewnecks (in pink, orange, and a charming striped yellow) will never hurt me the way that those acrylic turtlenecks from New York & Company did. I will wear them three days in a row and never tire of that basic and classic crewneck style that Boden seems to favor every year. Uh oh...looks like I've already got fodder for that next sweater blog--coming Winter 2018.</div>
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But back to today's selection: a lovely pink cowl neck sweater from Express in a chenille blend that simply begs to be adored. In fact, I saved it for today because I remembered how cozy and cheerful it made me feel, and that seemed appropriate being that it is so close to Valentine's Day. If I were an archaeologist, I would put this sweater (and its 4 siblings!) somewhere around 2001. But this is the most attractive in the family--call it the Jeff Bridges, Dennis Quaid, Alec Baldwin, or Matt Dillon of this sweater dynasty.</div>
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Don't you wish your sweater was cozy like this?</div>
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Will this neck prove to be friend or foe?</div>
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Haven't you always wanted a bird's eye view of a cowl neck?</div>
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These bell sleeves toll for thee...</div>
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Do you remember when early favorite Chris Daughtry got eliminated from <i>American Idol</i>...who could forget that dark day, right? Everyone thought that he'd be the eventual winner and go on to meet the success that later befell household names like Lee DeWyze and Taylor Hicks (yikes...that's the second time I've picked on him here. Sorry. I think I did actually vote for him). Well, that didn't happen...but I guess things turned out okay for the balding rocker (as for other <i>Idol</i> also-rans...well, it's a good thing there are so many celebrity cooking/crafting/cartography reality shows).</div>
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I put this sweater into this category...I had nothing but high hopes for today. In fact, I almost felt a little bit decadent putting this wonderful sweater on...as in, what did I do that was so special to deserve the honor of wearing this beautiful "handknit" (according to the tag, anyway) cowl neck? </div>
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America voted, and this sweater's journey ends here. To begin with, it was short. Really short. Like, Julia Roberts' shirts in <i>My Best Friend's Wedding</i> short. Also...those sleeves. Oy, those sleeves. Not only were the bell-shaped, but they too were abbreviated...but not in a cute, 1960s manner. When the cowl neck is the least of your problems, you know that times are tough. Sure, the color is cute and I still like the style, but I only have two hands with which to tug, and they were in perpetual motion.</div>
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How could I have been so wrong? Either my memory is completely off, or something happened to this sweater after its trip to the dry cleaner. My Mom assures me that this fiber content (45% acrylic, 44% polyester, 11% wool) does not allow for shrinkage. (I'm just curious as to how they determined that it was exactly 44% polyester). But I'll get 4 more chances with this style...and none of them are in dry cleaning bags (because I really hate to disturb a sweater when it's in that packaging. Let it sleep, I say).</div>
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My rating: C. Thomas Howell. I'll admit it--I loved him. Deeply. Out of all of the "hunks" in <i>The Outsiders</i> (and there were many: Rob Lowe, Tom Cruise, Matt Dillon, Patrick Swayze, Emilio Estevez...need I go on?), I chose him. And I stuck with him--through good times (<i>Secret Admirer</i> was kind of fun) and bad (<i>Soul Man</i>...actually, I think that's where I lost him). But sometimes your memory of someone is better than the actuality of that person. Were I to go back and watch <i>The Outsiders </i>again, (on my VHS, DVD, or Special Edition DVD), I'm guessing that my affections might switch to another. While I'd like to honor Johnny's wishes and "Stay gold, Ponyboy," I'm afraid that this sweater just didn't live up to my memory of it, and although I want nothing but the best for Mr. Howell, his affinity for straight-to-DVD shlock horror films (not to mention his cringe-worthy, albeit victorious, performance on the celebrity magic show, <i>Celebracadabra</i>) have further convinced me that gold, like my love for him, is "Nature's hardest hue to hold," (and, yes, I memorized that poem...that's how much I loved him).</div>
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Author's note: Since I've, ahem, gotten a little bit behind on my sweaters, I decided to revisit a few of them, and remind myself just what got them eliminated (or reinstated) 'lo those many days (weeks) ago. I chose to wear this particular sweater today because I did not trust my initial reaction to it back in February. How could this beautiful pink sweater (that I have actually worn on my birthday because I thought it was so cheerful) cause anything other than pure jubilation? And how was it possible (spoiler alert) that its siblings seemed to fit so nicely, while this one resulted in a case of severe tugging and adjusting?</div>
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Well, I don't always trust my initial instincts (as legend has it, I told my Mom that the witch in <i>Snow White</i> was nice because "She gave her an apple."), in this case, I was correct. The neck is nice when peeking out of a coat, but that's about the extent of the praise for this chenille wonder. <i>Snow White</i> had a happy ending (even though that Prince was kind of a stiff, if you ask me), but there will be no royalty coming for this sweater. Back it goes into the donation pile. The end.</div>
Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-11172965402965678722013-03-18T08:16:00.002-07:002013-03-18T08:16:42.908-07:00Day 49 -- Raise Your Hands If You're Not SureThere's <i>chenille </i>and then there's chenille. I am hoping this is of the latter variety...meaning that it is several steps above the earth toned chenille tunics that are still offered in the plus size section at Walmart (which feel more like pipe cleaners than actual high-grade chenille--if there actually exists such a hierarchy). Since it was a gift from my Mom (back when chenille ruled the galaxy), I know that this is a high quality sweater (I'm not sure that my Mom even knows that Walmart exists, so we've got that going for us). I recall that it is fitted (perhaps a euphemism for "tight") and keeps the heat in like nothing else. And, yes, I acknowledge that perhaps chenille isn't the most en vogue of fibers, but I'm hoping that this sweater can rise above any trends and provide me with a day's worth of compliments, or, barring that, at least warmth and a good fit.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, I bought several chenille sweaters from Express<br />
back in the day...fortunately, none of them survived<br />
into this decade (and were there multiples!).</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't think the flash did this sweater any favors.<br />
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Okay, so now I remember why I don't always gravitate towards this sweater. Despite its deep Gwen-Stefani's-lipstick-red and well-crafted (but chenille) fibers, this v-neck is just a little bit, well, fitted would be the kind word for it. Not that it's too small, or anything, but it just wasn't the kind of sweater anyone would want to wear if they were trying to reach anything on a high shelf. Or yawn. Or possibly Jazzercise.<br />
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Having said that, I still haven't given up on this one yet. Even my Mom, the benefactor of this fine specimen of synthetic fibers, told me that she can't imagine that I'll ever wear this sweater, unless, and I quote, "You are just desperate for a cherry red sweater to go under a jacket." Of course, by "jacket," she is not referring to a ski coat, so I'm pretty sure that this limited set of circumstances will never come to fruition...but, just in case, I'll keep this one around--on a tight leash and a high shelf. Which, by the way, I won't be able to reach while wearing a sweater this short. Maybe I should look into those tunics at Walmart...<br />
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My rating: Gerard Butler. Although he has graced more than his share of men's fitness magazines (which are pretty much only purchased by women, I might add), this buff but roguish Scotsman has made just a few too many clunkers with Mesdames Heigl, Biel, and Swank lately, and is really testing my patience. No one can deny his good looks, and a good Scottish brogue can make up for a couple of missteps, but his poor judgement in roles lately, coupled with the "fitted" nature of this sweater and the questionable stylishness of this fiber, put him on the "watch" list (and I don't mean his films). He won my heart in <i>Dear Frankie</i>, and I enjoy the occasional red carpet photos of him in <i>US</i> <i>Magazine</i>, but his off-screen tomcatting (which is considerably better than "TomKatting" I guess) and his sometime lack of personal grooming has left me cold (much like this sweater, when I make any motions with my arms). Nobody expects Gerard to get back into his <i>300</i> shape anytime soon, but is it too much to ask for an engaging and intelligent film that allows for an occasional high-five, fist pump, or, basically, <i>any</i> movement of the arms?<br />
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(And while you're at it, Gerard, if you get any script that requires you to be madly in love with Hilary Swank, run. Far away).</div>
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This sweater will be on probation until further notice.</div>
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-51485092892889205402013-03-12T10:52:00.002-07:002013-03-12T10:52:33.177-07:00Day 48 -- I'm a Cotton-Sweatered Ninny-MugginsOne of my sweater sisters (or should that be <i>sweata sistas</i>?) once gave me the advice to wear my sweaters according to a seasonal color scheme. Her reasoning was that certain colors would just feel "wrong" when you wore them out of season, and, more importantly, since you haven't worn all of your sweaters yet, you wouldn't be sick of your wardrobe come February. While I didn't pass that bill into law right away, I did realize that not all of my sweaters looked appropriate for year-round use.<br />
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Take, for example, today's lovely crew neck. I remember wearing this in the fall, and then having an odd craving for those chalky Brach's Conversation Hearts (which, if you haven't seen them lately, have gotten almost too hip for my liking. Tweet me? No thank you!). This is clearly a sweater that was made for, if not February, then definitely a month <i>not </i>during the regular season for football.<br />
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The tag for this sweater indicates that it is from the Gap, and dates back to 5/2000, which, as I interpret it, means that it is from the 5th quarter of 2000 (or it could be May...but I doubt that they get that specific). I don't know how long their quarters are, but I'm assuming that this is from their spring line (but, if the 5 stands for autumn, my entire hypothesis will be blown). Either way, this bad boy is over ten years old, yet (to me anyway) looks just as fresh as it did when I bought it (which, again, was either in May of 2000, some random 5th quarter of 2000, or in 2001 at a Gap Outlet). I chose to wear it on a day in which I'd be fairly active, and thereby appreciative of the 3/4 length sleeves and 100% cotton fiber content. If only the rest of my life could be as organized as my choices of sweaters have been.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What the Cupid's softball team wears for their uniforms...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmVoSk7fNxVdDDBavj8ZYIfpnOooklvdPYKFO0x_7P7ls_6FNl8NGR3G4KnnoVCDmvcM2pPbEmkmWGwtn14EJQIOFdvMrM0mDyL7sbtFx3LWcEFgnt5kLxVVzBxg5rPe8oENVAfXMUDy0L/s640/blogger-image-1037983109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmVoSk7fNxVdDDBavj8ZYIfpnOooklvdPYKFO0x_7P7ls_6FNl8NGR3G4KnnoVCDmvcM2pPbEmkmWGwtn14EJQIOFdvMrM0mDyL7sbtFx3LWcEFgnt5kLxVVzBxg5rPe8oENVAfXMUDy0L/s640/blogger-image-1037983109.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Color-blocking and stripes? Don't mind if I do!</td></tr>
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For a cotton sweater worn in the heart [sic] of February, I have to admit that this little fella held up more than his end of the bargain. Sure, the 3/4 length sleeves might be a bit of a stretch this time of year, but one certainly can't argue with the color scheme here...you can practically feel the cavities being formed from those overly-sweet (and delicious) Valentine's Day cupcakes. I defy anyone to be in a foul mood while wearing this little candy-colored creation...or was that because I wore this on a Saturday? No matter...I enjoyed this sweater (and probably paid a whole $29.99 for it) and will most likely see it again when the chocolate snowmen are replaced by their aortic counterparts on the shelves at Walgreen's.<br />
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My rating: Will Ferrell. To the general population, the name Will Ferrell evokes laughter and the random <i>Anchorman</i> or <i>Talledega Nights</i> quotation. My relationship with the (mostly) funnyman is a bit more complicated: I enjoy quite a bit of what he does, but really only need to see him in a limited capacity. Just like that Brach's heart, more than a handful of Will Ferrell's shtick can cause, if not tooth decay, than a severe case of self-indulgence overload. For my $29.99, a little Will Ferrell goes a long way, and I would no sooner wear this sweater in October than would I welcome a Will Ferrell vehicle in which he plays a man-child who realizes that he never learned the Dewey Decimal System and goes back to elementary school to right that wrong (all the while finding love with his third grade teacher, played Elizabeth Banks). And did I mention that he streaks in that movie (I guess that goes without saying in Mr. Ferrell's movies).<br />
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It is, of course, the exception that proves the rule (I have never understood that expression, but it is certainly said enough on sitcoms so I believe it to be true). The outlier can be described in just four beautiful words: "Santa! I know him." I can forgive Will Ferrell pretty much everything because of the sheer joy that he exudes in his performance as Buddy the Elf. Sure, I could do without those yellow tights (especially on Blu Ray), and Zoey Deschanel hadn't yet perfected her doe-eyed adorkability yet, but for pure Christmas fun, <i>Elf</i> ranks up there with the best. But wait...where was I? Oh yes...this sweater, right. This striped pink confection will bring joy to your (Valentine's) holiday season, but, like the man who brought us Chazz Michael Michaels, Alex Trebek, and, of course, the cheerleader from <i>SNL,</i> it is at its best when used sparingly. And, speaking of confections, if "you see gum on the street, leave it there. It isn't free candy". </div>
Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-55288087656450369002013-02-27T11:08:00.003-08:002013-02-27T11:08:50.395-08:00Day 47 -- Mr. EdAs we are nearing the half-way point of this blog, I just want to assure everybody that, yes, I do have enough sweaters to make it 53 more days. No need for a national panic to ensue...and if I have to wear that festive Halloween sweater in April, by George Clooney, I'll do it. Anything for this blog. Yeah, anything except keeping up with it...I'm afraid that I've kept up with the Kardashians better than I have with this blog (poor Bruce...I promise not to name any sad-sack sweaters after you. The same may not be said about Scott, however). Oh, I've been very good about <i>wearing</i> a different sweater every day...just not so great about <i>reflecting</i> upon that experience. But fear not, I remember every little stitch (and itch) about all of these sweaters, so there won't be any sweater-fraud on my watch.<br />
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So, I present today's offering: the 2nd in a 4-part series (but not nearly as compelling as <i>Downton Abbey</i>, I'm afraid) which began back on Day 29. While that one displayed a modicum of creativity (look Ma, stripes!), this selection is simply a chunky-knit, carnation-hued turtleneck, sold at the Gap at or around the Y2K.<br />
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Amongst my friends, I am not exactly known as a "planner." I like to wait until the very last minute to decide what to eat, watch, do, etc...even if that renders that my weekend plans be relegated to collapsing on the couch and clearing out some of those ominous exclamation points on my DVR. For this blog, however, I am a regular Type A personality...even going so far as to plan my sweaters up to five days in advance (and, as an extra bonus, I've even been coordinating my sweaters with the weather forecast. I tell you, I am a new person...for about 50 more days, anyway). Knowing that I teach hockey on Friday afternoons which is why I am always cold on Friday night (which makes me even less likely to want to plan outings with my friends), I decided to put all of this simulated handknit posturing to the test. If this sweater can keep me warm and display some semblance of early-February-Valentines-Day <i>joie de vivre</i>, it'll remain in my collection and continue to take up a lot of room in my closet (especially when stacked on top of its 3 other siblings).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76Bjqt4Tn1s6v3d1RJ-YWoeTFgvYBrR_UAZw4CpPSTN3NnJzk8ADwQo6IrbE3abuMGvdDykL9-9OAgGvIJfm9AvZGNS-hHiEJhvwf6gIQL8Qpm9X0BAGOWA16BEkho1TmYoUIJjnsTTr5/s640/blogger-image-1593824821.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76Bjqt4Tn1s6v3d1RJ-YWoeTFgvYBrR_UAZw4CpPSTN3NnJzk8ADwQo6IrbE3abuMGvdDykL9-9OAgGvIJfm9AvZGNS-hHiEJhvwf6gIQL8Qpm9X0BAGOWA16BEkho1TmYoUIJjnsTTr5/s640/blogger-image-1593824821.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Okay, all together now..."Awww!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3NMxlaG1FVBs6Wnzw738RnYx3FGu4NraSURxhmEj8M-JmOV5kC_OiJwg4KyHS47q1oz9D-Nyd8CqJSZd9PIcnZ3UM2FOBOfQC3LEV-YvBf3MEWBLcLuxx4bjrlPTSfyJXNcsp5CVSKkF/s640/blogger-image--182451553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3NMxlaG1FVBs6Wnzw738RnYx3FGu4NraSURxhmEj8M-JmOV5kC_OiJwg4KyHS47q1oz9D-Nyd8CqJSZd9PIcnZ3UM2FOBOfQC3LEV-YvBf3MEWBLcLuxx4bjrlPTSfyJXNcsp5CVSKkF/s640/blogger-image--182451553.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All I ask is that a neck maintain its shape...is that too much to hope for?<br />
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So, after a long day on the ice, I have to say that this l'il bugger really held up his end of the bargain. This had a nice, upbeat color, and the fit was fairly agreeable as well (I'm still not a fan of the rolling hem on sweaters, but, it, for the most part, stayed in place). It was chunky without being too bulky, and, wouldn't you know it, that little turtleneck held its shape all day. I still opted out of plans for Friday night, but that had less to do with being cold, and more to do with being way behind on <i>American Idol</i> because I keep falling asleep during those boring auditions. Suffice it to say, this one made it to Hollywood week.<br />
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My rating: Tom Cavanagh (despite my strict rules against looking an actor up on IMDB, I <i>had</i> to this time, just to get that spelling correct). Like this sweater, Mr. Cavanagh ruled the airwaves in the early 2000s in his whimsical drama series <i>Ed</i>. His winning dimples, charming personality (and this lovely carnation hue) made him a frequent guest on late night talk shows, and it seemed that he was poised to become a permanent fixture in our entertainment lives. But, for whatever reason (oh, cruel, cruel fickle television viewers), Tom Cavanagh just didn't happen for us. He made some attempts (as Zach Braff's brother on <i>Scrubs</i>, various voice-over work), but, despite his talent, hand-knit quality, and boyish good looks, he seems to be relegated to the once-a-year Hallmark channel movie appearance (usually around Christmas). Which is a shame, because when you need some cheer on a cold February afternoon, you can do much worse than a blush-colored turtleneck and the proverbial best friend from literally every cable series from the past 10 years.</div>
Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-62206971293050649742013-02-24T10:37:00.002-08:002013-02-24T10:37:15.709-08:00Day 46 -- Brooke Burke-BoucleWhen history looks back upon my life (it'll probably be a really slow news day), there's a chance that they will cite my affinity for late 90s/early 2K sweaters from the Limited. In multiples. And, as I have shown time and time again (and there are more lurking...good Lord, will I ever be able to wear an individual style again?), nobody wins when I buy in bulk (unless it's a bulky non-itchy turtleneck in a cheerful color...why can't I find that great white whale?). Savvy readers will recognize this sweater (in turtleneck form) from an earlier blog...it survived, but will his rose-colored brethren smell as sweet?<br />
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So, in the immortal words of David Coverdale from Whitesnake (as if I could name anybody else from that seminal late 80s hair metal band), "Here I go Again..." While neither he nor Tawny Kitaen would ever be caught rolling on the hood of a Camaro wearing a semi-boucle sweater from the turn of the century (or slightly thereafter), surely they can empathize with my attraction to this lovely shade of pink. Is this love that I'm feeling...possibly. We'll see after I give it a spin in the old muscle car today.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkW3FcoGuooIHzbNbzU_XcwpKO4B4xApJ7wRpliK5m4P0qHwrjvUYO3jENsItVw-tNA9ULrxnuHxb5c-5vc4yzgoJCGWrGGZJTAHhWB3bqv4dx2826yoSxoO_5Qjh_D4TNMOqfEz0rGQF/s640/blogger-image-818362197.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkW3FcoGuooIHzbNbzU_XcwpKO4B4xApJ7wRpliK5m4P0qHwrjvUYO3jENsItVw-tNA9ULrxnuHxb5c-5vc4yzgoJCGWrGGZJTAHhWB3bqv4dx2826yoSxoO_5Qjh_D4TNMOqfEz0rGQF/s640/blogger-image-818362197.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The recipe for this sweater was too complicated to transcribe--<br />
(wool, nylon, acrylic, eye of newt...)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CnBTZaeHDys6PRxpCK75Rg9xM36At1UoWkJcR0lTsiuKmjAG-syVGV-obn5DytHqqT-5YYnTs8fkYCAlFfu0rDQqHERFRgwiuZiRHup3jLxLnBpgIOVknzNuofP1qrnQ7URMV9gYq1YQ/s640/blogger-image--1661432687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1CnBTZaeHDys6PRxpCK75Rg9xM36At1UoWkJcR0lTsiuKmjAG-syVGV-obn5DytHqqT-5YYnTs8fkYCAlFfu0rDQqHERFRgwiuZiRHup3jLxLnBpgIOVknzNuofP1qrnQ7URMV9gYq1YQ/s640/blogger-image--1661432687.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Methinks this sweater is insecure about its stomach.</td></tr>
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After giving this sweater a whirl (on the ice, of course), I deemed it fit and ready for the occasional wearing on my ragtag team of mutant sweaters. I liked the color, it fit nicely, and there was nothing about the fiber content that caused me any undue stress. All was running smoothly in my world until...</div>
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I kind of got roped into a last-minute gig/job/obligation as a chaperone for the park district's Daddy/Daughter Dance. In a snowstorm. My first thought, however, wasn't, "Do I really want to spend my Thursday night at a Daddy/Daughter Dance," or "But I'm three weeks behind on Project Runway...". No, it was, "Had I known, I would have worn a cooler sweater." As I've stated before, the bylaws mandate that if a sweater is good enough to be kept, it must be worn for the entire day (unless, of course, you are in for the day, and then you are allowed to change into a sweatshirt). </div>
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I considered bending the rules (since this was a last-minute engagement), but I decided that if I don't have my integrity on this blog, what have I got (besides a closet full of sweaters from The Limited that have yet to be put to the test). And, once I paired this with a really cute skirt (from <i>this</i> year, thank you...I don't have the same issues with other articles of clothing) from Anthropologie, this sweater really didn't look <i>too</i> dated. And, besides, most of the "daughters" at this dance were from the 4-7 year old demographic (which means that they weren't even alive when this sweater was created), so I was fairly certain that their knowledge of knitwear trends was limited to the primary-colored turtlenecks on <i>The Wiggles</i>.</div>
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My rating: Tom Bergeron. Surprised? While most people just accept Mr. Bergeron's existence the way they acknowledge the return of air-brushed t-shirts and the ongoing presence of Gary Busey on practically every reality show over the past few years (has anyone made the transition from <i>Celebrity Fit Club</i> to <i>Celebrity Rehab</i> so seamlessly? Come to think of it, Tawny Kitaen was also on <i>Celebrity Rehab</i>...how's that for synergy?), I maintain that he has more talent than he is ever given credit for. I will ignore his work on the sound-effects laden <i>America's Funniest Rigged Home Videos</i>, and will focus my attention on his wry witticisms and subtle humor in the spray-tan fest that is <i>Dancing with the Stars</i>. The fact that this sweater can go from day to evening says quite a bit, and Mr. Bergeron is no stranger to the special event hosting gig himself. Between Tom Bergeron, Mario Lopez, Chris Harrison, there is no pageant or reality contest left unturned. Nobody would expect a ten year old multi-fiber sweater to be able to attend the "big dance," but Mr. Bergeron does so with an arched eyebrow here and there, a clarification of his co-host's jumbled statements, and, on occasion, a playful grab of Maksim Chmerkovskiy's nether regions (and who could blame him for that?). While this sweater might not be your first choice when you look into the armoire in the morning, it is certainly no less deserving than some of the newcomers to the collection (Billy Bush...I'm looking squarely at your aw-shucks grin). An under-appreciated host with, if not the most, than certainly with just the right amount.</div>
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-30568729111851797452013-02-20T22:28:00.003-08:002013-02-20T22:28:36.393-08:00Day 45 -- Don(ning) HenleyYou didn't expect me to buy just one sweater from Hollister, did you? So here we are again...only this time it's in a lovely shade of pink. With a pouch. And bell-shaped sleeves. This can't end well.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCk28BFlXmKrnwHwg2rUHmIASg6bMVkIK7q5pzxKIdTNgXKRFSw66l9iHv-v-Egt4rfhGkeRfp9HYYCW8XynvMGgILn_Cevz5JqlNI4HpT8ek3w_uD3xV_abWs8cGphtCJibswyJPQr43d/s640/blogger-image-1950672069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCk28BFlXmKrnwHwg2rUHmIASg6bMVkIK7q5pzxKIdTNgXKRFSw66l9iHv-v-Egt4rfhGkeRfp9HYYCW8XynvMGgILn_Cevz5JqlNI4HpT8ek3w_uD3xV_abWs8cGphtCJibswyJPQr43d/s640/blogger-image-1950672069.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When this much of the mannequin is showing, you just know I'll<br />
be battling with the hem all day.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgrwXs-XBkigmqu3OUakrNp0lDMS-aktEPErMssBo6pLDMMSJdhCio3K3roIdXhadlVEr0QqTWUIj3ACOfI5ODQdWuyNc9_t6ac5gqQY-tJRgvkseFdQQoOmOp8AJaygjJrhcdIf70YkZE/s640/blogger-image-1381970687.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgrwXs-XBkigmqu3OUakrNp0lDMS-aktEPErMssBo6pLDMMSJdhCio3K3roIdXhadlVEr0QqTWUIj3ACOfI5ODQdWuyNc9_t6ac5gqQY-tJRgvkseFdQQoOmOp8AJaygjJrhcdIf70YkZE/s640/blogger-image-1381970687.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's the proper henley etiquette? 1 button undone? 2? All?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0NPg4jOzm34vQmgN7Iq4EgWJeQhESXxqHmvsdbc8tdX4YfSjO22su4QTXDGNObfa6SLChlvSwuf2T0PDR2vfgzfZ2Ec36Sz53iiMj5jJd1dITfnmqgmDhfyytRRROEUQsSNo50hL_VHl/s640/blogger-image-2130475213.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk0NPg4jOzm34vQmgN7Iq4EgWJeQhESXxqHmvsdbc8tdX4YfSjO22su4QTXDGNObfa6SLChlvSwuf2T0PDR2vfgzfZ2Ec36Sz53iiMj5jJd1dITfnmqgmDhfyytRRROEUQsSNo50hL_VHl/s400/blogger-image-2130475213.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this is what is known as the "purl" stitch. If you turn<br />
this inside out, it will look like a normal knit sweater (with odd seams).</td></tr>
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Since I had trouble just putting this sweater on the mannequin, I knew that this would not be a day in which I tucked my legs under me on the couch while wearing thick socks, sipping a piping hot mug of cocoa while watching the snow fall gently outside as I watched a marathon of <i>My So-Called Life</i> on TV (back when the name "Jared Leto" did not evoke anything other than a longing sigh). Nope, this day started with a 6:30 am lesson and did not end until I woke up on the couch at 1:30 am to the strains of a real estate infomercial and an impossible pain in my neck from improper sofa pillow placement. So much for that hot chocolate...<br />
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But that about sums up this sweater. It looks fairly cute, and the "reverse" stitch technique puts it a few notches above an ordinary mediocre sweater. But, due to the abbreviated length (intentional?) and wide sleeve width (irritating!), this lovely pink confection was really more of a (literal) pain in the neck. I spent more time pulling down the hem while rolling up the cuffs that I really couldn't enjoy the laid-back surf attitude that a Hollister henley promises. It's cute in theory, but is actually more trouble than it's worth.<br />
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My rating: Edward Norton. For someone so gifted, Edward Norton sure makes it difficult for everyone to like him (not that he cares, of course). I alternate between finding him adorable (see: Y2K relic<i> Keeping the Faith</i>, and 2012's <i>Moonrise Kingdom</i>) and then being appalled by his arrogance and prickly personality in pretty much every interview he does. While it doesn't always show up on the screen, his method acting perfectionism and highly vocal criticisms of his directors (not to mention those bell sleeves) make his acting skills and boyish good looks seem almost wasted on him. Refusing to do press for a movie like <i>The Incredible Hulk</i> is understandable, but, c'mon...<i>The Italian Job</i> was actually a lot of fun. Talent and a lovely shade of pink can only take you so far...after that, we have to enjoy spending the day with you (and, let me tell you, I had as much fun tugging at this abridged hem as Roger Ebert did in <i>Death</i> <i>to Smoochy</i>). And, besides, he dated Courtney Love...for a long time. That's got to say <i>something</i> about him. Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-39866285414052068192013-02-15T21:47:00.002-08:002013-02-15T21:47:48.792-08:00Day 44 - I Ain't No Holla-ster Girl (is that song in your head now?).I've long been intrigued by Hollister. Back when it was only in a few malls, it was really a unique experience to shop there, and you got the sense that you've stumbled into a secret passageway from the board game Clue. How did this surf shack suddenly appear mere steps away from the Stride Rite store? From the front porch with the surf magazines strewn about, to the wood floors and casually arranged merchandise, shopping in Hollister is like traipsing through the Malibu summer cottage for a latter-day Frankie and Annette. You can practically <i>taste </i>the salt water and <i>feel</i> the sand residue in your shoes.<i> </i>And who doesn't want to feel like a surfer...even (or especially) when one is right next to Auntie Anne's in a Midwestern mall. I loved being transported to another state, if, for no other reason, than to escape the overly aggressive skin cream salesman in the nearby kiosk.<br />
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Usually, I would peruse the t-shirts and proclaim that I don't really like to wear so many logos (when the truth was probably that the fabric was a little thin or the cut of the neck was an impossibly deep V). But, of course, I always wanted to leave the store knowing that I could bring a little bit of the surf shack back to my house (if not the male models on the bags...are they even real?). Unfortunately, I haven't been back to Hollister since the tragic incident of 2011...in which I found myself thinking, simultaneously, "This music is too loud," and "It's so dark in here that I can't even see what size I'm looking for." Shortly after that, I was "ma'am-ed." I haven't returned.<br />
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So when you find what you perceive to be reasonable clothes from Hollister (reasonable in that they are somewhat cool, but aren't plastered with logos and won't make you look like you are a contestant on one of those <i>MTV Real World vs Road Rules Challenge </i>shows), naturally, you snatch them up. I believe that this purchase contained two sweaters and some (long since lost) winter accessories like a severely marked down scarf and a pair of fingerless gloves (what's. the. point?).</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9vkuVnWH1x3li7D69lFpxlVN1IvB0LWVQJtStWCmdVFzsmSPpgBfW4vCU7dv9-Z2DWArPQ5dZvW-uRHDjfA8NpziyKftI7ro3wL-fmzbRYjzHTPLbJ8Ze42MkMDX1r0YQ3jFLJyjBFIy/s640/blogger-image--188230585.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9vkuVnWH1x3li7D69lFpxlVN1IvB0LWVQJtStWCmdVFzsmSPpgBfW4vCU7dv9-Z2DWArPQ5dZvW-uRHDjfA8NpziyKftI7ro3wL-fmzbRYjzHTPLbJ8Ze42MkMDX1r0YQ3jFLJyjBFIy/s640/blogger-image--188230585.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I bet you think I'm going to keep this sweater, don't you?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEght6OhNOjKuoexFKUJ1Nb40nkCZIkH-XRoTbkTC31b5OK9IH6RDOtcotSnxgCE8LZUxvY_TQpVXSSWz78eW2al54kklH9N0yObNv3jH9S4ARkSRY19MTso_EmcHEs4JFQoyGzqVkrJ7TaH/s640/blogger-image-1934321435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEght6OhNOjKuoexFKUJ1Nb40nkCZIkH-XRoTbkTC31b5OK9IH6RDOtcotSnxgCE8LZUxvY_TQpVXSSWz78eW2al54kklH9N0yObNv3jH9S4ARkSRY19MTso_EmcHEs4JFQoyGzqVkrJ7TaH/s640/blogger-image-1934321435.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not snowflakes...what shapes do <i>you</i> see in these clouds?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietU9ZVQ1o7CGlBz8w2CcHMD-iBeklaHkrhISE-TOq3XaN2UxSkSlefRUek1hAbLMNjdjdHYrj3fs1Ml44-Xtp-ZwvOFu7UT4Qf9n384Uqd-BJHo_Wa7gUAI51A8b7sEI6yD1lY19e1qx_/s640/blogger-image--221637704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEietU9ZVQ1o7CGlBz8w2CcHMD-iBeklaHkrhISE-TOq3XaN2UxSkSlefRUek1hAbLMNjdjdHYrj3fs1Ml44-Xtp-ZwvOFu7UT4Qf9n384Uqd-BJHo_Wa7gUAI51A8b7sEI6yD1lY19e1qx_/s640/blogger-image--221637704.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If the acrylic doesn't warm you up, the hood sure will.</td></tr>
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Looking at these pictures, I can definitely see how people get fooled by online profiles on dating sites. This sweater looks hearty and substantial...two great adjectives for a game of Mad Libs, but neither of which apply here. It was relatively thick, but didn't have a lot of "give" to it, nor did it have the comfortable fit of a chunky winter cardigan (dude, when you're just throwing something on after a day on the waves, you don't worry too much about styling). I know that I wear this sweater quite often (translation: once a year), but I think that says more about my desire to represent the surf culture at large than any kind of affinity towards this sweater. The pattern is cute, and, were it in a soft and cozy knit, this would be a hang ten. Right now, it's more of a wipe out.<br />
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My rating: Oliver Hudson...as in Kate Hudson's brother...Goldie's son? He with the impossible dimples and the winning smile? Okay, <i>now</i> you're with me. Because of where he's from and who his parents are, you really <i>want </i>to like him. He always seems to be the best looking specimen on the screen in a sub par television series, and there certainly is something very attractive about the pattern on this cardigan. His Hollywood good looks and easy-going persona promise a day of surfing, snowboarding, or some vocation that is equally embarrassing for most Midwesterners. But this sweater's heritage from a surf-inspired store does not make up for a day of tugging and adjusting, and really isn't worth sitting through an entire episode of that sitcom with David Spade (I hate to mention him again...but I just cannot understand how that show is still on the air). Plus, it just is not as cozy as it looks. There is hope for Oliver Hudson (he's a lot cuter than most of the stiffs that they use in those paint-by-numbers romantic movies around the holidays), but I fear that my closet cannot provide him with amnesty any longer. Maybe he'll find a new home where they let him play that SoCal music as loudly as he wants. <br />
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2011525686749445435.post-8947123868116406572013-02-13T21:51:00.002-08:002013-02-13T21:51:11.745-08:00Day 43 - (Not-So) Great Scott!Behold, the red Gap turtleneck from Holiday '06.<br />
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(I was hoping maybe that speaking in biblical parlance might make this sweater seem more important that it actually is).<br />
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It wasn't very invigorating when I wore its sibling in tan a week ago, and it's even less so now. Sure, the neck has kind of an interesting pattern and the fit is fairly good. And who doesn't need a good red turtleneck this time of year? Other than that, however, there's not much about which to pontificate here.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyzwc0SnrXi_uSASBjIqm0frNnKw9o0jTIQP5ATUJvWH55-Z7h3Zxf5QoOJS6Bg7kN7PxzKzwGNamaArfYQ3-pqN7Xk0dv5PM10xunoweuquje2YBb4IbaSorSxEZW_0ZwArM2JlHnYkA/s640/blogger-image--219526204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyzwc0SnrXi_uSASBjIqm0frNnKw9o0jTIQP5ATUJvWH55-Z7h3Zxf5QoOJS6Bg7kN7PxzKzwGNamaArfYQ3-pqN7Xk0dv5PM10xunoweuquje2YBb4IbaSorSxEZW_0ZwArM2JlHnYkA/s640/blogger-image--219526204.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aren't I demure?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpKm7TDpbwYjFwoQ88ecE9Qo-JfWeg98qfd-BMRD4NUBQuJY9lJKlXIg2uKCyYr4z5wais8fgTHLq3EXCwV9wclro6wc-2Zc9uMvMF4xnMETRFKFZIUYcc-i3rrJc4kz1grcWJ22Ohk1s/s640/blogger-image-1623114889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpKm7TDpbwYjFwoQ88ecE9Qo-JfWeg98qfd-BMRD4NUBQuJY9lJKlXIg2uKCyYr4z5wais8fgTHLq3EXCwV9wclro6wc-2Zc9uMvMF4xnMETRFKFZIUYcc-i3rrJc4kz1grcWJ22Ohk1s/s640/blogger-image-1623114889.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note to designers: sew your hems with orange thread and I'll purchase your garments!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0R3nlVCEpyVCaF5IJtW6X5ACTTx-Ru-JVzfyaotcbM-iw2zFy8A43jJXilB_JHthCwvnI3Sbvjh8ppF9bxEOLoPwYh99CZb0i7UR6EzFl4V2JyTJK0Ad6jmHtKtjG1gRXAjpt804pdymL/s640/blogger-image--1187529401.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0R3nlVCEpyVCaF5IJtW6X5ACTTx-Ru-JVzfyaotcbM-iw2zFy8A43jJXilB_JHthCwvnI3Sbvjh8ppF9bxEOLoPwYh99CZb0i7UR6EzFl4V2JyTJK0Ad6jmHtKtjG1gRXAjpt804pdymL/s640/blogger-image--1187529401.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If you thought </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>Argo</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> got your pulse racing, wait until you read about my adventures in this basic red cotton-wool blend sweater. Right...ummm...maybe I should have said, "If you thought <i>Lincoln</i> was a thrill-a-minute roller coaster ride of a film, you'll really enjoy reading about this crimson turtleneck from six years ago." What can I say? This turtleneck left about as much of an impression on me as most of NBC's fall lineup (sorry, I think Jay Leno's monologue just infiltrated this blog). While I was fairly non-plussed by this sweater, I didn't really expect to be "plussed.". It's a red turtleneck, people. Move on.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm going to hang onto this sweater, just in case I am in a flash mob and we are required to wear dated knitwear in various shades of cherry. I may not wear it again for a few years, but, when I do, I am sure that it will be every bit as much of a non-event as it was today.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">My rating: Craig Ferguson. Have you ever overheard anyone say, "Hey, did you see Ferguson's show last night? It was hilarious. Watch that skit he did on YouTube." Yet, the show has not yet gone the way of Magic Johnson, Chevy Chase, or Caroline Rhea's late night offerings (I bet you forgot that she even had a show...and, possibly, who the heck she even is). There will always be people who choose to wear a slightly ho-hum red turtleneck and who opt for just sorta funny when they could actually watch something hilarious (without even having to upgrade their cable packages). And for those people, we have this perfectly fine Gap turtleneck and some mediocre late night TV hosted by an only slightly less mediocre Scottish improviser. He's inoffensive enough (unless, of course, you are watching him try to do some short-form improv with Drew Carey), but there are better options out there when you're ready to break out of this sartorial and not-so-satirical rut. I'm hanging onto this sweater, but only because of his Scottish accent (but don't go looking for any favors from me, Billy Connolly--I'm saving the last spot on the Scots roster for Gerard Butler).</span></div>
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Molly Andersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05030053156618155934noreply@blogger.com0