The funny thing is, I took these photos with Catherine on one of those July-like late September days, and I was actually sweltering in pants–let alone a knobby fisherman sweater.
NOW this sweater is a mere layer in what I have to wear to face the tundra that is Boston. True, I’ll be wishing for 39 degrees when the windchill is 9, but for now, I’m going to find something to complain about.
My grandpa-chic LL Bean Fisherman Sweater is one of those pieces I put on only to think mmm, this might be where we get that bad reputation. It, mixed with my insistence upon wearing white denim all year round, is at least where I get mine. But I stand proud in my flannel. I even wrote a thing solely dedicated to defending duck boots. More or less.
Whether you like it or not, the fisherman sweater is a New England classic, and it’s on sale right now. Which is kind of an oxymoron, I’m only now realizing.