Oliver Korinek Writing on Wool – IFWC

 

Me, Myself and My Sweater

I won’t bother you with the excruciating details of my relationship with Chris. I respect my readers in a certain way, in which I do not feel comfortable sharing the details of him, our mutual coexistence or myself. And if you just jumped to the conclusion that I am too secretive to share the details of my personal relationship, you could not be further from the truth. It is not that I would not like to share; it is just that there is not much to share. Our relationship was far too normal and dull, one could even say boringly ordinary, and honestly, one would be quite right. The base of our relationship would not inspire any scriptwriter to write a stimulating and instantly forgettable chick flick, nor a painfully boring indie film. We were just two people who decided to spend their uneventful lives in a happy union.

 

Which is why I was dumbfounded by the way the events of this Friday night escalated. We left the apartment heading for a party, me treating him with some passive aggressive silent treatment, due to the fact that I had no intention of having any fun tonight. Honestly, some nights you just want to put on some sweatpants and slowly go through the tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream, rather than trying to socialise with bunch of people you have no intention of ever meeting again. And to make things worse, all his friends were lawyers, united by the inability to hide the fact that they were assholes. So you see why I was less than excited to spend the night faking a laugh at jokes I’ve already heard a thousand times. But rather than confront him, I went to the bedroom to change my clothes. I put on a simple outfit with my favourite chunky white wool sweater on top. A fact that Chris hated this sweater cheered me up a bit.

 

Things got heated up on the way to the pub. Chris, due to the facts unbeknownst to me, came home already quite exasperated, which I found strangely arousing. I did not know this side of him and it left me fascinated and dumbfounded, a state I was not comfortable in. Facing conditions I was not accustomed to, I admit I reacted in a way that only worsened the situation. He said some things, I said some things, and before you knew it, we were having a heated argument in the middle of sidewalk. In the midst of the argument, Chris shoved me away from him and walked away angrily.

 

What he did not see, is that after he shoved me, I lost my balance and fell backwards, my head hitting the hard wall behind me. The pain exploded behind my eyes, and for a while all I could see were stars. When I regained consciousness, the street was empty and Chris was gone. As I was lying in the dirt on this god forbidden street, I suddenly felt warm blood dripping down my neck, and all I could think about was how difficult it will be to remove stains from my favourite sweater. Although my mother, the vain material woman that she was, did not give me much motherly advice over the years, one thing she did teach me was how to take care of your garments. I knew that if woollen gets stained, it is very important to take imminent steps to remove the spot. I had only minutes before the blood will set and the mark will become immovable and the sweater will be ruined. Just like this argument with Chris ruined our relationship.

 

I focused all my attention on getting back on my feet, but I just could not do it. Suddenly I was feeling very tired. Tired of my relationship with Chris. Tired of constantly being let down. Tired of living a tiresome life. Tired of bleeding. Tired of knowing that I probably will not save this sweater. And at that moment I suddenly erupted into a burst of laughter, echoing through the street. I do not know if it was by that situation or blood loss, but the fact that my life was in grave danger and all I could think of was my precious sweater made me laugh so hard. After all, I realised, I was that sweater. Bland and comfortable, unique in some details, but at the same time alike to millions of others. Facing imminent death, we reveal our true characters, and there and then I realised two things. First, that I am just like my mother, although I do not like to admit it. And second, that I should probably break up with Chris.

 

This text on Wool was written and submitted by Oliver Korinek for Round 2 of Modeconnect’s International Fashion Writing Competition. Check Oliver’s entry for Round 1: Lets go Glamping with JS J Lee

Read all the International Fashion Writing Competition published submissions.

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