Yeah, that’s me.

It would appear that I’m not really in touch with the realities of my life. I offer you the final proof.
This is an extremely elegant wrap knit of Eros. It is the exact opposite of what I usually knit. It is everything that this tree-hugging, ultra-liberal vegetarian knitter abhors, and yet I am inexplicably drawn to it. It is 100% unnatural fibres, it sparkles, it was a serious pain in the arse to knit and it was expensive. It is the anti-steph. Despite all of this, I have knit it and I love it.
I have knit it because I have a mental image of me in the wrap. I’m wearing it with a clingy little black dress, and a pair of tiny little strappy heels. I look inexplicably tall. My hair is doing a fabulous Sarah Jessica Parker thing and I am at a cocktail party, delicately holding a martini in one hand and a black beaded handbag in the other. I’m discussing politics without getting angry, and I make several good points and my lipstick is exactly the right colour, and all the other women want to be me and I know that it is all because of the wrap.
Yeah. The reality is that if I were to put this wrap on…I would be wearing it to the grocery store over my jeans with a pair of birkenstocks. I don’t own a little black dress, and the last party I went to had 7 nine year olds an a cake in the shape of barbie. I beat my hair back with 4 kinds of product to suppress its will to ever spring forth into “country singer hair” and I need at least 30 minutes notice to come up with any lipstick, never mind one the right colour. When other women see me they generally thank their lucky stars that they have escaped my fashion destiny and incredible ability to overlook the fact that my cardigan is mis-buttoned.
Still…as soon as I figure out how you deal with weaving in the ends on this yarn, I will have it draped over a hanger in my closet. This means something doesn’t it? It could mean that I’m a lunatic who is so out of touch with reality that I’ve got a sparkly wrap for no reason. I choose to believe that it means that I’m one step closer to being able to say “One moment, I’ll be right with you” when Pierce Brosnan comes to the door to take me to a James Bond-esque cocktail party.