I usually only wear cashmere sweaters. Years of shopping at TJ Maxx after Christmas have allowed me to acquire a nice assortment. However, my favorite charcoal gray v-neck had been forgotten in the bowels of the basement for too long. I wore it so much that it now has a Tom Waits in The Fisher King kind of look to it. At the cuffs are tears that allow me to stretch them, hook them, around my thumbs lending a nice ragamuffin flair.
Well, I finally picked it up off the floor and washed it. The unseen and mysterious fabric eating creatures of that familar dungeon have left their mark by eating a nice grouping of holes at the midsection. I'll still wear it though. I don't give favorites up easily. Sometimes never.