I’ve just bought a woman’s cardigan. A woman’s cardigan I intend to wear myself. Yeah boy — gender fluidity!
I admit, the decision is somewhat uncharacteristic. I do not, as a rule, shop in the ladies section. I have never worn anything you could reasonably describe as panties. But this cardigan from the Margaret Howell MHL line was too good to resist. Basically, I looked at the measurements, convinced myself the numbers added up and ordered the biggest size they have.
Of course, if it doesn’t fit, my girl lies in wait to snaffle it away. She’s a size small, but conveniently also, “totally into oversized.” I am indeed fortunate.
I must remain positive, the above is the worst-case outcome. Until it arrives I’ll swarm the front door like an angry Messerschmitt and when it does I’ll tear it open, pull it on and immediately discover whether it’ll accommodate my man-sized-manly-ness. Wish me luck.
It is actually called the ‘Boys Cord Cardigan‘, so this piece already gives a nod to my gender. It just looks so beautiful. I know chocolate brown is having a moment right now — I just don’t care. It’s like a wearable Lindt. The wool, the cord, both so crisp and clean — I’m sure the arms will be long enough, I just wonder if I’ve got too much body?
In case you’re wondering, I didn’t take a full RRP chance. I spotted it on sale over at Norse Store at 30% off. Still significant for a roll of the dice, but I’ve made peace with it. Either I’ll be pleased or my girl will — a win win.
You watch, I bet MHL release a male version next season. And I’ll be waddling about trussed up in a slim-armed women’s cardigan while cursing my itchy Paypal trigger finger. Such is the life of the mens(womens)wearist.