

This used to be my favorite sweater in college. It was my grandmother's during World War Two. I had my
blonde hair cut short, and it was dyed this rich chestnut brown, and I was dressing vintage and French. I wore pearl studs and nighties. It was a different moment. Anyway, the sweater is one of the only pieces that moved from that fashion moment to this one, and it is falling apart. The dry cleaner won't touch it anymore, afraid of upsetting its beading.

See? "Hand Decorated" scares dry cleaners. So a million years ago I was whining to Mama Mouse about this. Know what she turned up with on her way through Chicago last night?

Oh yes. It's a pretty damn good replica, I think. It's cashmere. She found it on sale, marked down about eighty percent. He-Mouse said, "Wow, it sort of looks like a grandma sweater."
I replied, "That's why I wear it over a
teensy lacy camisole."
His eyes lit up.
I may have to cut all my hair off and dye it brown.