Meet the Twixmas jumper – the perfect knit for right now | Jess Cartner-Morley
No Santas, no reindeer and zero tolerance of gingerbread men – go for a sweater that is cosy and special but not overtly Christmassy Don’t know about you, but I find that Christmas is a bit like drinking martinis. It is really fun, and then it is a bit too much fun, and by the time I realise I’ve stepped over that line, whoops, it’s too late. I’ve overdone it, and all I want to do is lie down in a dark room. Christmas is an intense and immersive experience. It is not just the alcohol, not just the food, although there have definitely been way too much of both of those things round my way. It is the whole sensory world. The new perfume your auntie got for Christmas going head-to-head with the cinnamon-scented tea lights. The nostalgia-soaked playlists and soppy romcoms. The kids on laps, the dogs on sofas, the fridge that barely closes. No doubt there was a point back there when I could have said: “You know what, I’ve had an elegant sufficiency of cheer, just a water and a quiet night with my journal tonight thanks,” but I was too busy singing along to Mariah Carey to notice and the moment passed. No matter. Better to err on the side of too much jolliness than too little, after all. Continue reading...
No Santas, no reindeer and zero tolerance of gingerbread men – go for a sweater that is cosy and special but not overtly Christmassy
Don’t know about you, but I find that Christmas is a bit like drinking martinis. It is really fun, and then it is a bit too much fun, and by the time I realise I’ve stepped over that line, whoops, it’s too late. I’ve overdone it, and all I want to do is lie down in a dark room.
Christmas is an intense and immersive experience. It is not just the alcohol, not just the food, although there have definitely been way too much of both of those things round my way. It is the whole sensory world. The new perfume your auntie got for Christmas going head-to-head with the cinnamon-scented tea lights. The nostalgia-soaked playlists and soppy romcoms. The kids on laps, the dogs on sofas, the fridge that barely closes. No doubt there was a point back there when I could have said: “You know what, I’ve had an elegant sufficiency of cheer, just a water and a quiet night with my journal tonight thanks,” but I was too busy singing along to Mariah Carey to notice and the moment passed. No matter. Better to err on the side of too much jolliness than too little, after all.