|Color Me Sentimental. Flame hair, electric blue dress, and a monster sweater made of memories.|
I was already a fool, but now I'm sentimental.
Last week, I tweeted about it:
And seemed familiar. "I haven't worn this in years," said charming boyfriend. "These are from my Sac-town days." Meaning he wore it a million years ago, when he used to live in my hometown of Sacramento, California, around the time we knew each other. When we had hung out at his house, sipped Sierra Nevadas out of the bottle, and listened to records. You know, and stuff.
"I remember you wearing a cardigan," I mused, I remember that when we first kissed, future charming boyfriend was wearing a mohair sweater. I didn't remember the color of it, only that it was a vintage fuzzy thing. I remember the color of his hair (bottle blond with dark roots) and I remember the color of his eyes (a bright halogen blue) but not the color of the mohair sweater. And, I remember the kiss. I so clearly remember that first kiss: it was soft and sweet + electric.