Cardigan
My fashion sense rotates through cycles that bare no resemblance to the needs of the season. I saw a man walking down leather lane who had a cardigan on that pretty much rocked my world. I really want his cardigan. I think I actually probably want his girlfriend, who was walking alongside him at the time, but let’s start with his cardigan and go from there.
It’s a lot more straight-forward to have a gut-curdling envy for an inanimate object, in my experience. I bought that transformer (when I was 9) within a fortnight. Susan Tindell still escapes me and I’ve being saving up for her for years.
Maybe the purchase of his cardigan (from a shop or from him, whichever it has to be) will place me in her league. Her league being defined by the type of pullover she dates. At the moment, she is out of my league - and I play in a very respectable division, certainly higher than the idiot she was walking with.
I just need to get my hands on that bloody cardigan, find out where she works (be this by stalking, stake-out or any other method that would get a less discrete obsessive locked-up) and pass through her lobby a few times. I’m assuming she has a lobby (or hope she has, I don’t want to date someone who spends their day doing something manual). Then she’ll spot me, see the cardie, see that we are registered for the same sporting contest - and the rest will be history.
