Worth its Weight In Cotton

Hanging in my closet at this moment are a few too many items that I have worn once and resented for years, pieces of clothing that I bought in a moment of need or fashion lust, then quickly spurned. A few years ago, for example, I purchased a black, 3/4 length brushed cotton Burberry raincoat before a trip to Turkey.

I believed the coat held great promise: it would travel well and never go out of fashion, but as soon as I returned from the vacation, I developed an irrational hatred toward it. It was too boxy, too boring, too unflattering and all together too ubiquitous around Rockefeller Center, where I then worked. It was also too expensive to get rid of. So it sits in my closet, taunting me, taking up a sturdy hanger, and forbidding me from buying another rain coat, a purchase I can’t justify when I already have one that is, by all reasonable standards, perfectly acceptable.

And then there are those items for which I paid a lot of money, and would have gladly paid double. This winter, that item is my Wolford turtleneck bodysuit. I’m crazy about it, dedicated to it, and it makes me wish I were Oprah so I could devote an entire show to it and give one to every member of the audience.

To the outside world, it is utterly innocuous, practically invisible. A black, long-sleeved turtleneck half cotton, half nylon that snaps underneath. It is toasty, versatile, and fits perfectly. I wear it under everything: dresses, sweaters, other turtlenecks. If I wore vests or blazers, I’d wear it under those, too.

At $235, one thing it is not is cheap, and it’s one of those items that never goes on sale, but since I bought it over Thanksgiving, I have only peeled it off my body to go to sleep or wash it (I even defied the directive to hand wash it, and it came out of the dryer perfect). In other words, it has more than earned its price tag, and then some. I only wish I could swap my stupid Burberry coat for two of them.