I can�t believe it has come to this. After years and years of my faithful patronage, the sweater has forsaken me. It sounds sad and tragic, I know, but it�s all true! I have tried on no fewer than five sweaters in the last week, of varying styles, sizes, and walks of life, and not a one of them has made me try to seduce my reflection in the full-length changing room mirror (which is really the true litmus test�if you�re not practicing your �come hither� stare and/or winking and stuff at your own sexy self, hang that shit back up and move on to the next store).
In any event, The Sexy has abandoned me, it seems. Dude, the sweater used to be my BEST FRIEND. A few years ago? I was a sweater-wearing machine. I had these really cool ones and they looked just right on me�have you ever noticed that fashions change almost in such subtle, undetectable ways that you really don�t know why you�d suddenly rather burst into flames than reach for that pair of jeans at the bottom of your dresser, but you somehow just know it�s a wrong choice? And then you reach anyway, just to see, and you try them on and stare at yourself in horror and you know that your body really hasn�t changed all that much, so this is EXACTLY how you used to look all the time when you wore these same pants, like, twice a week, and now you�re opting for spontaneous combustion over another public appearance as Wearer Of The Dorky And Unflatteringly Cut Stonewashed Like Who Actually Wears Stonewashed Anymore Jeans, and yank them off as fast as you can and vow never to speak of it again?
That�s where I am with almost all of my sweaters now. I think there are two that I�m still willing to wear for anything other than painting the apartment or possibly hog wrestling, and that�s just not enough. And okay, you may be asking why an Angeleno like myself would really need a proliferation of sweaters so desperately, given that our average autumnal temperature is still well in the sixties, but (as I�ve mentioned before) that�s only what the thermostat is reading for outside. The average office temperature in LA is, like, negative frillion degrees or something, and I don�t have much in the way of long-sleeve anything, y�all.
Of course, this quest for sweaterdom may prove to be pretty pointless, since I�m just about to be done with my current assignment, and have no idea what I�ll be doing next (if anything�eek!). I�m actually kind of looking forward to a little break, if I can get one. But only a little. I really like the relaxing atmosphere of not having to go to work, but I really hate that constricting feeling I get in my throat brought on by the hypertension and arrhythmia I get from all that anxiety over being unable to pay my bills.
Also, although I�ve checked off all the major names on my Christmas shopping list (as I have previously stipulated, one can never begin too early), I still have some little things to purchase to tie the loose ends off. And that doesn�t address the myriad smaller gifts I still have to get that I don�t ever factor into my expenses because the list is already long and depressing enough. And of course you can just tack those expenses onto the money pit I started digging with my romantic weekend getaway (which I absolutely don�t apologize for�I knew it would be pricey, but I also knew the memories would be worth the financial cost), and suddenly it becomes much harder to envision spending FIFTY FUCKING DOLLARS on some item of clothing that I won�t wear in two years because it�ll make me want to go back in time and throw paint on myself for having the gall to go out of the house in a cable-knit v-neck that makes me look like the 7th-grade chess club president.
Anyway, maybe it�s just the current crop. Maybe the styles of Today just don�t work on my frame, and all I need to do is ride it out, and next fall there will be a whole host of attractive sweaters just begging me to take them home. In the meantime, I guess I�ll just mummify myself with scarves and say it�s a new �look�.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: is gael garcia bernal gay html gossip I�m Watching: The end of Desperate Housewives. You know, it�s not as disappointing in fifteen minute increments you can fast-forward through to avoid all the boring crap. I�m Reading: Seasons of Sand by Ernst Aebi, although I think I�m going to have to jump ship when I go home for the holidays, because I need beach trash for the plane, y�all.