I’m wearing a turquoise sweater today that I bought this fall at Nordstrom. I remember the day when I bought it. It was so bright and pretty, so soft and cashmerey. Today, this sweater, to me, represents a long winter of Tuesday mornings spent staring bleary-eyed at a shelf full of such sweaters. I’ve worn it about once a week for five months and I can’t wait for the moment when I can toss it into the back of the storage closet for the next five. The bar is...
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