This post, unlike last week's, is going to be about holiday presents. (One present in particular.)
For extra than two a long time, one of the most treasured gadgets in my fabric dresser has been the cardigan sweater my grandmother gave me for my thirteenth birthday. What I love most approximately it is that it has any such huge form of colorings?Grey, pink, maroon, wooded area green, blue, red?That it is able to be worn with nearly the whole thing in my cloth dresser. Since I rely on multiple layers of garb to hold myself warm within the route of the wintry weather, this sweater was quite tons the most beneficial iciness garment in my dresser: an outer layer that might be worn over actually any mixture of internal layers. Black turtleneck, red Henley, preferred cardigan. White blouse, red pullover, favorite cardigan. You get the concept.
Obviously, this sweater emerge as moreover amazingly properly made to have lasted this lengthy. But over 25-plus winters of harm, even the most durable item will ultimately start to fall apart. My cherished cardigan is now closely darned inside the elbows, and there are holes inside the lining huge sufficient to allow me to position the sweater's pocket into my pants pocket from the outdoor. On top of that, I have not exactly stayed the same size considering my teens, so the sweater now can't be buttoned all the manner without straining throughout my middle-aged booty. So, reluctantly, some years in the past, I began searching out a alternative.
Well, it appears that obviously as beneficial as this sweater is to me, it is no longer a very famous fashion with producers. In reality, after combing thru dozens of retail sites, as well as listings on Amazon and eBay, I could not locate anything even remotely find it irresistible. This made the old sweater, tight and tired though it was, even more treasured to me, and I clung to it all of the tighter because it deteriorated.
I cited this hassle to my sister, now not this year, however ultimate twelve months, and he or she or he took up the quest to help me find a replacement. She sent me link after hyperlink to pix of multicolored cardigans with the question,
As it turns out, the sweater wasn't altogether perfect. Melanie pointed out to me a couple of small flaws: it was missing a button, and it had a small hole or two that would need to be stitched up. But she also pointed out the label sewed into the collar: Missoni. Being an ecofrugalista who doesn't really keep up with the fashion world, I had to have it explained to me that this is an extremely high-end Italian designer line. A quick search revealed that a brand-new sweater from Missoni would run three or even four figures.
Now, obviously, this sweater wasn't brand-new and wasn't in perfect condition. In fact, over the course of the past week, I've found and fixed several holes in it, aside from the ones that my sister initially pointed out. And because I didn't want to schlep all the way down to the nearest fabric store (45 minutes away) for new buttons (and also because the buttons on the sweater are really nice, and I might not find anything as nice to replace them), I simply removed the bottom button from the sweater and moved it up to fill the empty spot. (After all, how often am I going to fasten that bottom button anyway?)
And here's the part that reveals just how well my sister really knows me: making these minor repairs to the sweater actually makes me love it more. Now, instead of being just "the sweater my sister gave me for Hannukah," it's "the sweater I fixed up myself to look as good as new." Putting my own work into fixing the sweater up before wearing it makes me all the more attached to it—a phenomenon that behavioral economists have called "the IKEA effect." As Dan Ariely put it in his book Predictably Irrational, which I just finished reading, your attachment to your belongings—and the amount of money you'd consider them worth—is directly proportional to the amount of time you spent assembling the cabinet, wiring the TV set, or even, as he notes whimsically, feeding, diapering, and singing a lullaby to the baby.
For me, as an ecofrugal person, this sweater would make a much less satisfying gift if I had received it new in the box, especially if I had some idea how much it cost. Rather than feeling loved and pampered by it, I'd never be able to put it on without thinking, "She really shouldn't have spent so much on me." My sister knows me well enough to realize that, so she made no secret of the fact that it was bought secondhand on eBay—which makes it both eco-friendly and a bargain. And the fact that it had a few minor flaws that I could fix myself made it doubly satisfying, since it's now a reminder not only of my sister's patient search (and clever bargain-hunting skills) but also of my own careful labor. This sweater is now my sweater, more than any off-the rack purchase could ever be. Happy Hannukah to me, and mazel tov!
