The Navy Sweater I'll Be Wearing in Ten Years

I bought a navy sweater in October and I've been quietly obsessed with the decision ever since — not the sweater exactly, but the fact that I only bought one. For years my cold-weather strategy was quantity: a drawer of jumpers in various states of pilling, most of them bought cheaply and worn until they looked tired by their second winter.

This one cost more than I'm used to spending, and I nearly talked myself out of it three times in the shop. It's lambswool, a proper navy that reads almost black in low light and softens to ink-blue by a window. The knit is dense enough to hold its shape but not so heavy it feels like armour. The seams are flat. The cuffs haven't stretched out, which is the small betrayal I've come to expect from cheaper knits by January.

I'll say the honest thing: I can't tell you it's objectively worth the price, because I don't think price and worth are the same conversation. What I can tell you is that I've worn it more in one season than I wore three of the old ones combined, and I suspect I'll still be reaching for it long after I've forgotten what it cost.

There's a particular satisfaction in owning one of something good instead of five of something adequate. Fewer decisions in the morning. Less guilt about the drawer. A colour that goes with everything I already own, which is rather the point of navy.

I don't think a sweater needs to be an heirloom. But I've started buying as though the things I own might have to last — and this one, I think, actually will. If you're going to be particular about one thing in your wardrobe this winter, let it be the jumper you reach for when it's grey out. Mine's navy, and I'd buy it again without the three hesitations.