I’m so sorry. I thought it would last forever.
And it almost did. Eight years.
Eight years is nearly forever in the fashion world.
I thought it was Love. But it was merely Infatuation.
You saw me through my big career phase, my semi-retirement phase, and for the last several years, my littler career phase. You’ve taken me through boring meetings and fascinating vacations, cruise nights and county fairs, Sunday brunches and family holidays.
I owe you so much. You deserve better.
It’s my fault. Not yours.
I’ve been tempted. And I’ve given in.
To long slinky tops.
Bye, Bye Cardigans.
Yes. It’s true.
For years I have collected my beloved cardigan sweaters in every possible color and weight.
And they were perfect.
Until I strayed.
Two months ago I was buying my third black cardigan. I really needed this one because it had snaps instead of buttons.
But hanging near the black snappy cardigan was a long v-neck sweater in a warm gray. It lured me with its soft color and the magic seductive word…”Sale”. And I tried it on. And succumbed.
I’ve always loved my cardigans because they are so forgiving. But now that I am slim, I loved the clingy, revealing, unforgiving sexiness of the long grey pullover.
Sexiness. Yes, I said it.
I have the rest of my life to be old. I only have a short time left to be sexy.
So I bought the snapped cardi. But I also bought the slinky gray.
And the first time I wore it, my husband said “Hubba Hubba.” He’s always liked the way I looked, but my cardigans never evoked a “Hubba Hubba.”
So I bought a black one. And a red one. And I wore the gray one on Christmas Eve. And then the red one on Christmas Day.
And then I shopped for a few more.
I used to avoid stripes like they were as evil as green eyeshadow. But stripes are sexy. And I am now addicted to sexy. Sixty is sexy. And almost sixty-two is the very end of sexy. I am desperate. So I bought one. Then a few more. Today I bought two more.
I’m sorry, cardigans, to be unfaithful.
But I have to let you go.
I have so much shopping to do.