I knew what it looked like when I got it. The friend I was shopping with also knew what it looked like because she told me. Did I listen? Nope. The fabric had a great feel. The relaxed fit was confortable and flattering. I can make it work, I said to myself, no one will notice. You dumb b*tch.
Turns out, if you buy a sweater that’s white and red like a Wally shirt, has horizontal stripes like a Wally shirt, quacks like a Wally shirt, then you’re Wally. Or you’re wearing his shirt.
Making it work proved mostly unsuccessful. Denim jeans would just make the whole outfit and I’d be ready for Carnaval. Black pants aren’t much better. Gray is somewhat passable, but even before I left the house a lovely loved one would always comment: “Oh, you’re wearing your Wally shirt”.
I honestly wouldn’t have such a problem with it if it wasn’t so custom-y. After so many tries, the outfit that seemed the most wearable – and the one I actually liked, was mixing it with brown and a darker red.
The stripes peak through the knith of the top sweater, and the visible part on the bottom gives it a pop of color to an overall more muted outfit.
The shoes tie the colors together. They’re a more casual and confortable type of boot, ideal for our visit to this vineyard on the weekend right after Valentine’s day. It’s was a lovely end of afternoon – we picked up some bread and cheese on the way (looove cheese) and picnic-ed with some red wine, in the company of a beautiful view and a few farm animals.
P.S. – I had to check how his name was spelled, because I distinctively remember looking for Wally when I was a child, but have heard Waldo on TV shows more times than once. Turns out Wally was the original Brittish version, and Waldo is the North American name. So for you from over the pond that might be reading this, I’m referring to the beloved children’s puzzle book “Where’s Waldo?”. Yeah. Like you needed clarification.