Old Wooly.

That's right, I tell the Boden people. Just send it to: 5555 My Address, where romance goes to die (I've heard they use fives in Hollywood for addresses and phone numbers. I'm pretty sure I'm almost there).

If I could stick an instant read thermometer into "room temperature" at my 1927, drafty old house, we could verify what I already know. It's cold in here; at least 20 degrees cooler than the 70 degrees indicated on my heat register. That box is never accurate, and at this point, I treat it only as a wish list.

To keep me ambulatory as I bumble about my day, I have come to rely on a trusted friend; Old Wooly. This was my first Boden purchase, a clearance item that is 100% lambswool. I know this because the tag says so, but also because when I wear Wooly, it warms the very core of my soul. Seriously. Wooly is a work horse. In Wooly's two short years of life, it has shrunk beyond buttoning (an unfortunate dryer incident), and acquired a little hole that looks like I put a cheese patch there for a mouse to nibble. Gross.

Nonetheless, wool has become a prerequisite for all my sweater purchases. If it's not wool, it's crap. Equipped with that shopping mantra, I've also found a sister for Wooly. A cheaper, more trendy model from TJ Maxx that boasts bell sleeves but that same great lambswool. Unlike Wooly (and my Crocs - Tim Gunn says they're taboo), I actually wear this little number outside of the home.

Wooly and his little friend have not been well received by Hub. Perhaps because their high circulation in my wardrobe batting order remind him of that box of a flowery housecoat worn by grandmothers the world over (at least in the 1970's and prior). You know, the one that suggests an androgynous being underneath that can cook a mean goulash, but is, well, matronly.   Hub tells me that he doesn't like housecoats, flannel pajamas with piping and wool.  Apparently, wool is itchy for some people.  Wool is a turn off for some people.  Hub suggests whether maybe some snug fitting, athletic microfleece can sub in for Old Wooly. 

Like I've said before, I'd like to believe that I'm not a number of things, including simply matronly. I'd also like to believe that I'm a sporty, tight microfleece wearing kind of gal.  However, I've found something that works.  And if the sweater fits (snugly, for certain), if it keeps me warm, and if I don't have to button (or zip) it, or go to the gym to justify owning it,  I might have finally found that identity I've been searching for...at least until Hub gets home.