I do so aspire to a fashion sensibility.

Back in April, at a campaign event in Summerside, I snapped a quick photo of Alex Tyrrell, leader of the Green Party of Quebec, wearing a smart black shirt and yellow trousers and I thought “that’s who I want to be.”

But I fear that I don’t have what it takes.

No patience for shopping.

No ability to shop.

Depression-era frugality baked deep into my DNA.

The component parts just aren’t there.

But you know what I can do: retire the grey sweater.

I’ve been wearing this grey particular sweater for a long, long, long time.

Here’s my first recorded photo of it, from June 6, 2006–14 years ago!–a selfie of me and Oliver at Legoland in Denmark:

Here it is in our 2014 family Christmas photo, 8 years later:

Here’s an appearance it made in 2015, while I was promoting The Old Farmer’s Almanac:

And two years later, in front of the late, lamented My Plum, My Duck:

It’s a Denver Hayes-brand sweater, which means it came originally from Mark’s Work Wearhouse, which isn’t even called that any longer.

And while it once may have been acceptable attire, I’ve been overlooking the fact that there’s been a hole in one of the underarms for several years, and that there’s been a hole in one of the arms for several months.

While both of these are, technically, darnable, there’s a larger issue that the sweater, due repeated use, has become a formless grey void:

It’s my very favourite sweater.

It’s comfortable. And familiar. And warm.

But it’s time to say goodbye.

I stopped at KC Clothing this afternoon while I was on my way to a plasma donation and found two new sweaters to replace it.

So that’s what you’ll see me around town in. At least until the snow’s gone and summer sets in.

My frugal DNA won’t allow me to actually throw my faithful grey sweater away, so it will go into the “things to wear while fiberglassing a kayak” section of the closet.

Goodbye old friend.