Adult life has a suspicious number of voluntary inspectors. Nobody helped you find the right pieces, yet there is never any shortage of people willing to compare the result with the picture on the box. Success should look convincing, happiness should sit neatly, and good taste is preferably expected not to raise its voice. People adore order in other people’s lives because maintaining it in their own takes far too much effort.
You stopped checking yourself against the sample a long time ago. You were never on the box in the first place, which is already reason enough to question the picture. Your best decisions were first called mistakes, then courage, and a little later retold as somebody else’s idea. You barely laugh. It would be cruel to embarrass people during that rare moment when they have finally had a good thought.
The milky-white knit looks as though it were cut from a summer cloud, divided into pieces and outlined in rich red. Meteorologists would probably object. Fortunately, their opinion on wardrobes is not yet compulsory.
The knit is light, breathable and barely transparent. Generous in hot weather; disappointing for the curious. The loose shape and enormous armholes were clearly made for days when even good manners belong in the refrigerator.
There is a conventional way to wear it too, purely out of respect for your right to occasionally surprise nobody. Turn the top back to front, choose the other side, or adjust the fit slightly, and the red outline falls into a different arrangement.
The most beautiful liberty comes from the enormous armholes: one becomes the neckline, while the original neckline and hem become openings for the arms. All the pieces remain the same, but the picture changes completely. Rules that allow this much freedom finally deserve some respect.
You need today’s version. Yesterday’s was impeccable, but repeating even your own perfection is a rather tedious form of vanity. Tomorrow it will come together differently. The voluntary inspectors will have to start checking all over again. Nobody promised them an easy life.