Cardigan Letter

I'm not someone who writes to shops. My daughter says I've never left a review for anything in my life. But I've told this story to so many people over the last few weeks that it seemed easier to write it down once, properly.

Somewhere around sixty, my cardigans went grey in every sense. Navy, oatmeal, a brown one I don't even remember buying. All warm, all sensible, all the same. I'd put one on over a nice blouse and watch the whole outfit give up in the hall mirror.

And you can't do without one here. The sun comes out, you think you're grand, and ten minutes later the wind is in off the bay and you're pulling on a layer whether you like it or not. I just never had one I actually liked.

Deirdre called in for a cup of tea on a grey Tuesday wearing a cardigan covered in painted autumn leaves. Not a busy pattern. It looked more like a picture you'd hang on the wall. Soft knit, proper buttons, falling nice and loose over her jeans. She looked put together without looking like she'd tried.

It was from Ellie Dublin, an online boutique a friend had put her onto. She showed me their knitted cardigans on her phone: florals, polka dots, little vintage prints, and one covered in painted flowers that I couldn't stop going back to. That's the Vintage Bloom cardigan in the photo above.

I ordered it that night. I've never had an original idea about clothes in my life, but I knew that one was mine.

Its first proper outing was our Sunday walk on the East Pier in Dún Laoghaire with the girls from my old job. It was one of those days that can't decide what it's doing, so I buttoned it right up and was glad of it.

We weren't even at the bandstand before Mairead asked where I got it. Mairead has known me since 1983 and has never once passed a remark on anything I've worn. On the way back, a woman walking her dog stopped to ask as well.

It hasn't been off the back of the kitchen chair since. Over a blouse for lunch in town, over a T-shirt and jeans on a Saturday, round my shoulders in the evening with the telly on.

I'll be honest, the price is what made me suspicious. They're running their Early Autumn Sale at the moment, with up to 80% off right across the shop. The Vintage Bloom cardigan I have is €44.95, down from €90.00. I assumed there had to be a catch, because a knit this soft usually costs a good deal more.

There's no catch that I've found. They're making room for their new collections, so the prices are down, and once a print sells out it's gone. And if it doesn't suit you, you have 30 days to send it back, which is what finally made me stop dithering.

Which is how I ended up going back for a second one. Deirdre and I put in an order together to get the extra discount, and I now have the polka dot one as well. I'm not one bit sorry.

I read the reviews before I ordered, the way I imagine you're doing now. The same things kept coming up: soft, warm without being heavy, and the prints are even nicer in person. This was the one that decided it for me:

If your wardrobe is full of cardigans you only keep because you need a layer, and not one of them makes you feel like yourself, it's worth ten minutes of an evening to have a look.

Not because a cardigan will change your life. It won't. But pulling on a layer and actually liking what you see in the mirror is a small thing I'd stopped expecting, and I'd rather you didn't stop expecting it either.

The sale is on now and the nicer prints are going first. I haven't worn one of my old cardigans since. I don't think I will again.