I want to love winter, honest I do. I want to love winter clothes, too. Cashmere, cable knits, angora--these are all things which, in theory, I very much enjoy. So what's wrong with winter clothes? I'll tell you what's wrong: they are too goddamn expensive. I could buy a lifetime supply of denim cutoffs for the price of a single, solitary, well made overcoat.
Take, for example, my newest obsession: Sandro. Everything they make is beautiful and soft and simple with just the right amount of detail (leather piping, sheer lace, a slouchy fit, a bold stripe, and all so mercilessly tasteful.) I've fallen particularly hard for their coats, all of which I would liken to the wardrobe equivalent of a SAD lamp, and not one of which clocks in below the $400 mark. I had to forcibly remove myself from the second floor of Barney's the other night before someone had me committed, hands full of shearling and letting out strange choking sobs of wonderment.
