There’s this little store in Ogunquit – the town in Maine where we got married and that we visit as often as we can – that’s Irish-themed, and I stop in every single summer despite the fact that I’ve never actually bought anything there (because apparently Irish-themed things are expensive things).
Ever since I can remember, there’s been a corner in that store with the same display of piled-up cable-knit sweaters in whites and creams: Fisherman’s sweaters, they call them, but to me they look like something that you inherited from your grandfather and wear whenever you want to feel extra cozy…and yet – somehow – also chic.
They’re also hundreds and hundreds of dollars. Presumably because they’re made by hand, which is nice.
Most of these are not. But that’s OK, too, because that means you can actually buy one.
