I’m not even 100% sure where I found this gem. I think it was at this one thrift store in New Hampshire where everything in the basement is a nickel, but that’s only because there are enough crack houses in that particular town for people to think a sweater like this has “class” and keep it in good enough condition as their formal wear that I could find it in such fine shape ten years ago. Or, like me, the former owner could’ve realized that, as much as you love this sweater, there are only so many occasions that call for a brown acrylic v-neck that features a giraffe applique seeming grazing from your cleavage.
Most of the occasions I’ve worn it to, I’ve regretted it, because with the wrong crowd, it comes off as kind of flirty-pathetic, like what the worst kind of chain-smoking, bad wig-wearing, ex-girlfriend defendant would wear on Judge Judy to charm the court into buying the argument that it wasn’t a loan because her ex offered to buy her that used Tahoe before she could even ask.
On the other hand the sweater is still like the ugly earrings that the throw-away character wears in the movie Singles, because she thinks if a guy sees them and gets them, he’ll get her. I’m not sure what it says about me if I think appreciating me means appreciating my pervy ‘70s giraffe sweater, but ten years into owning this gem, it’s still worth figuring out.