My friend Laurel once gave me a sweater that is probably the most horrendous sweater in existence. Also it might be the most delightful garment I own. It is brown acrylic, loose knit, women's. She bought it in New Jersey (where now she is curating an interesting show called "Is it possible to make a photograph of New Jersey regardless of where you are in the world?".) The main source of wonder on the sweater is the macramé feathers that seem to gently sashay down from the color. There are eight of them each outlined in gold. I wore the sweater once on a Gawker video and got fairly taken to task. I admit, the neck wasn't all that flattering and since it is a woman's sweater, it didn't fit. Also, I mean, clearly it is god-awful.
Lately I've been wanting to be an adult. I got health insurance! (Freelancer's Union, it sucks!!!) I'm going to pay my taxes! I'm going to see a dermatologist about an irregular mole! And, as part of that, I also got this sweater taken in. Now it kind of fits. Sure, it is still horrendously unflattering but the idea behind wearing the sweater isn't to look good. I, when wearing the sweater, am not and should not be the focus. I am there to serve the glory of the sweater and not the other way around. So sure, I look like a lesbian obsessed with arts, crafts and Indians. But I'm also a soldier in the aesthetic trench, fighting for ugly/hot acrylic sweaters everywhere.