I didn’t have a single allergy growing up. Pollen, dander, dust mites, mold, peanuts, tree nuts, bee stings, gluten? Bring ’em on. I could literally bury my face in a pile of dust without emitting a single sneeze.

Something happened when I got pregnant, though (in addition to my already gargantuan feet growing yet another size and my stomach skin’s elasticity giving up for good). All of a sudden, some cats made me itchy (not all of them thank god because #CrazyCatLady), a single dose of anti-inflammatories sent me to the ER with an Eric-Stoltz-in-Mask face, and wool in all of its many glorious forms, from mohair to merino, made my eyes burn, my skin crawl and my throat feel like I just swallowed a sheet of flaming sandpaper.

Including cashmere.

Any sane woman would simply avoid the stuff and go about her life. Emphasis on the sane. 

Is it itchy in here or is it just me?

But cashmere.

“It’s fine if it doesn’t touch my skin,” I’d lie to myself as I handed over my Visa. “I’ll just wear something under it!”

It was at a sample sale that I fell in love with a certain creamy, dreamy wrap sweater.

What were a few hives, some bloodshot eyes, several hours of miserable physical anguish, when you could be wrapped in a gorgeous goat-hair hug? Besides, it was going to look amaze with my leather jeans I couldn’t breathe in and the spiky shooties (shoe booties? you guys had them too, right?) that gave me blisters when I looked at them.

Look, I was young, okay? I’ve gotten a lot more sensible. I haven’t started bringing fold-able bedroom slippers with me in my purse when I go out, but I’m close.


 A decade later, it hangs mostly unworn in my closet. (Apparently I suffered through wearing it at least often enough to get a few mysterious brown stains on it… and I’ve owned it long enough to feed more than one moth judging from the scattered, miniature bite-marks.)

My only regret is not giving it away back when it was plush and pristine and someone could have enjoyed it.

 

XO,
Jenna

PS I just remembered there’s a lady in Santa Barbara who makes these darling stuffed animals out of old sweaters. I will find her and give her this hateful death trap lovely sweater!