Dear Grey Jersey,
I can’t quite believe it’s taken me this long to write this letter to you but then again I procrastinate about most important things like categorising my hats and putting them into labelled boxes, writing down my banana cake recipe and sending it to Nigella Lawsons hoping she might take a look at it and get inspired or getting those old fashioned scales and learning how to weight myself with them…. the real nitty gritty that is required in life.
But back to you dear jersey. You might recall when we first met. You might not. It was a long time ago and I suppose since then you’ve had more exciting encounters – namely with designers like Norma Kamali who has taken you on quite the pretty sportswear ride. Nonetheless, I’m not going to be petty. I don’t mind recounting that first occurrence between you and I. You were squished up in the form of a rather ill fitting cropped cardigan in one of those shops in a shopping mall in Mong Kok, Hong Kong. I can’t say you were in good company because everything in that shop cost about HKD10 and quite literally would fall apart after two wears and a good dose of Ariel. Your other jersey compatriots were lined up next to you in shades of plum, turquoise and the oddest shade of yellow I had seen in a long time. Your colouring of light tri-blend grey stood out as you looked like you might stand the test of time. Indeed, I wore you about 299 times until I lost you in a big-family-washing-rage (I come from a family of six…). You went over dresses and skirts turning them into skresses. I no longer feared the word ‘cropped’ which to me signalled dreaded training bras and midriff exposure.
I met you again in Barney’s New York a few years later. I had never been before. I hurried up to the floor where I could just about afford something as the lower levels were making me feel a little queasy with their pricetags. Combing through the sales racks, I noticed an abundance of toga like grey jersey tops that did in truth resemble unidentifable sacks from afar which probably why such a hefty discount was being applied. This time, you came in a darker shade of grey. I didn’t even try you on and with the reasonable sale tag, I clutched you and took you to the cash till and paid with my slightly bent ‘first’ cash debit card that made me feel a little grown up as all my own money was in that account. I’m wearing you today – thanks for keeping me cool and stopping me from getting irritated by some City worker on the tube who likes fiddling about with his Blackberry just a leeetle bit too much.
Since then, you and I have got on in a Babysitter’s ‘nothing bad ever goes on’ Club kind of way. We’ve never had quibbles have we? Ok, there was that time when I saw you in some sort of really awful glitter appliqued grey tracksuit ensemble but that’s ok. You were probably coerced.
If I pull something of you out of my wardrobe be it a t-shirt, a racerback, or use a bag made out of you (the newest one being a large quilted louche tote courtesy of Swan Diamond Rose), I know I’m not going to get any nasty surprises. Reliable, trusty and no, that never descends into the Volvo state of things. It never gets uninteresting because you have happily obliged to be paired with more colourful things lurking in the closet. You don’t mind playing second fiddle to some sequins, some fringed tights, neon lace or sometimes all three…
Perhaps that’s why it’s taken me this long to write this to you. Second fiddle you are not dear jersey. If you went away completely, I’d be looking at those sequins and that lace quite blankly not knowing what to do with them. I don’t really care who gets to be the x or the y in the x+y formula but both need to exist and I don’t even like mathematics all that much.
Anyhow, you may or may not know all of this. Millions of others adore your qualities too even if they don’t tell you so in such a formal manner. You get knocked about a bit and abused but at least you’re still hanging in there. I can’t say the same for fake leopard print fur alas.
That’s something to be thankful for, that you’re grey jersey and not the aforementioned.
P.S. I’d be grateful if you also came as a cushty sofa too because I’m fast realising the flats I’m looking at don’t come furnished and MFI is not throwing up many good options.
P.S.S. Don’t let the scary pervy American Apparel CEO take you for granted. Him and his BJ-giving employees would be nothing without you…