Dear Lover,
I always imagined that love wore hand-knit Cosby sweaters and was stitched of nothing so common as acrylic or wool. But cashmere-soft, alpaca-warm, and very, very vintage, so when you wear it, you feel like a well-dressed hug. Even wool can last for centuries when well-woven and loved. But shouldn’t love be snug and have seams in all the proper places? Complement, but never cover, and breathable so your skin never itches until you rub in I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not-Butter.
Could love be a disguise, a cape of leprechaun clovers? Isn’t love that special thing you brag about to your mother? Is it soaked in silk, or wrapped in cheap plastic? Does it have a fancy zipper or a waistband of elastic? Is love a hipster in bohemian skirts or a three piece suit in Prada selling five hundred dollar shirts? Does love wear plucked eyebrows and a double coat of mascara? Does it stare at itself naked in a full-length mirror?
Maybe your love wears a beaded headdress and feathers, but I always imagined it wore hand-knit Cosby sweaters.