Being an adult has its advantages: nobody can forbid you to have cake for dinner. You do that yourself now — much more politely, and almost without witnesses.
Colour meets the same fate. One day electric blue becomes “bold”, red becomes “too much”, pink requires an occasion, and there you are before the wardrobe, dressed in impeccable moderation. It suits you beautifully. It has also bored you to death.
Colorful Madness needs no occasion. It arrives like champagne on a Tuesday, or an honest answer to a question asked purely out of politeness. Blue, red, pink, yellow, green, violet and turquoise come together as though the rainbow has suffered an exquisite nervous breakdown. Dark brown and beige are present like older relatives: for propriety, never authority.
The knit is dense and warm, with enough structure to hold its shape. The silhouette is fitted; the sleeves are different, the hem uneven, the fringe impossible to overlook. Perfection has been given just enough room to be ruined.
Wear it back to front and the colours — along with the shorter side — change places. Five seconds before leaving, you changed your mind. What a luxury — not to explain.
You haven’t grown out of it.
You’ve grown out of boredom.