A Morning Ritual Worth Keeping

There is a shop in Milan near the Brera district that sells nothing but knitwear. Not fashion knitwear — real knitwear. Cashmere sourced from Inner Mongolia, spun in Scotland, finished in Italy. The sweaters sit folded on wooden shelves in colors that do not call attention to themselves: bark, cloud, the grey of old stone.

I bought a crewneck there in 2004 that I still wear. I have worn it in California winters, which are mild, and in the genuine cold of a December visit back home, where it was asked to do real work. It has done real work. It shows no signs of fatigue.

The question of what makes good clothing is not complicated, but it has become artificially complicated by an industry that benefits from replacement. Good clothing is clothing that lasts. That improves with wear. That acquires a patina of use without losing its integrity.

A sweater that costs four hundred euros and lasts twenty years is cheaper than four sweaters at one hundred euros each that look shabby by the third. This is not a message that sells well in the current moment. I understand that. But Fabio and I keep returning to it, in different contexts — wine, furniture, cooking equipment, clothing. Buy the better thing once. Take care of it. Let it age with you.