I love a luxurious cashmere sweater. I found a perfectly cozy one to wear around the ranch–snatched from my boyfriend's closet. The term "boyfriend sweater" takes on a whole new meaning when said boyfriend is six-foot-six. It's a supremely masculine piece: a thickly ribbed charcoal-colored sweater with a mock turtleneck. He says it might be by Gucci, but he's not sure because he cut off the tag long ago. On me, it's a "boyfriend sweater tunic".
This could quite possibly be my new favorite piece of clothing. I've gotten into the everyday routine of pulling it over a long-sleeved tee with my black leggings. Temperatures are chilly here when we wake up but it gets pretty warm around noon, which is usually when I peel it off. The sleeves are far too long, though. I have to roll them up, which makes them look like giant cuffs. Because the weight of the knit is so heavy, I don't think it looks very stylish that way but I do it anyhow.
"I looooove this sweater," I purred, as I curled up in the chair next to him this morning with a mug of hot tea.
"Does this mean that it's officially not mine anymore?" he asked, glancing over.
I do believe the answer to that question is yes.