I have a confession to make. I am a sweater obsessive.
To be honest, because that's what we're doing here today, I'm a fashion fanatic in general — selvedge denim, flannel pants, regiment-striped ties, bakerboy hats, corduroy shackets — I love it all. But if I had to confine myself forevermore to just one clothing item, if some universal being of power swept down from the heavens and said I must choose, I would pick knitwear every time.
The roots of this obsession are rather obvious to me: I was always a pudgy child, and I remained heavyset as a teen. I was also fortunate to grow up the child of wealthy, generous parents, and by age 15, I was regularly traversing the Americana — Long Island's almost impossibly upscale strip mall — and regularly patronizing establishments such as Prada, Armani, and Ralph Lauren. Because of my size, items in these stores were often not suited to my body type. The pants in Prada frequently didn't come in my size; an Armani blazer could not be tailored sufficiently to allow me to button it comfortably.
But knitwear was forgiving. It was malleable. While my friends bought the most violently fashionable denim at Barney's that only ascended to a size 36, I could console myself with a cashmere sweater from Armani.
I still own the first cashmere sweater I ever bought from Armani: black, ribbed (in keeping with the 90s fashion ethos), with just the faintest whiff of something like cable knitting coursing through its threads. In fact, I still own most of the sweaters I've bought over the years. My collection must number in the many hundreds; I do not care to make an accurate count.
I am insatiable. I cannot resist the acquisition of more knitwear, despite my already vast repository of cotton, wool, cashmere, linen, and — very occasionally — some synthetics.
So, I had the thought: why not put my fixation to good use? And that's how I find myself here, dear reader, preparing to share my top 10 sweater purchases of 2024. I know: You can hardly wait. Me neither. Let's fucking go.
10. The Sweater That Might Be a Fleece
To be clear, I'm not generally a fleece guy. Before purchasing this iteration of the type from Auralee, the only fleece in my closet was a shawl collar version from Bode; in other words, an esoteric example of the form. Even in college, when some friends seemed to dress almost exclusively in Patagonia fleeces, they were not my thing. Or so I thought, until I glimpsed this beauty at Mr. Porter. The key here is that, unlike those Patagonia numbers, this banger is made from actual wool, and it is perhaps the softest, most sumptuous thing I own. It is like being swaddled in a cloud. When I wear it, I find myself often rubbing the sleeves of the sweater against my forearm, just to feel the fabric caress my skin. (Let's move on before this gets weirder.)
9. The Sweater That Isn't Actually a Sweater
I first discovered the Instagram account "Very Tennis, Very Vintage" through the excellent style and culture publication WM Brown and its impresario Matt Hranek. As someone who spent multiple summers in middle school emulating Andre Agassi in my Nike tennis gear, I was immediately charmed by the intersection of my favorite sport and my cherished menswear hobby. I initially bought from them a vintage Bjorn Borg-era sweater — and while that piece is great, I was even more impressed by the vintage track jacket I acquired a couple of months later. I count this as a sweater because, true to its vintage nature, it's partially composed of wool, and also because I tend to wear it as I would a cardigan — as a mid-layer, sometimes atop a pair of camel hair pants (deliberately evoking Richie Tenenbaum) in the winter, or as an outer layer with shorts and a polo shirt in the summer.
My wife would tell you that the summer sweater isn't a real thing, but I strenuously disagree. While my knitwear collection is certainly weighted towards the fall and winter seasons, I own nearly as many spring/summer options. For me, the distinction is mostly based on the fabric involved; unlike their woolen counterparts, a spring or summer sweater should be made of cotton and/or linen (exceptions can occasionally be made for a very fine-weight merino). This year I discovered my platonic ideal of a summer sweater via England's Speciale. Composed of a lightweight cotton, Speciale's cardigans are nicely cropped, making them well-suited for pairing with the kind of high-waisted pants I favor. The version I first obtained came in a stupendous shade the company referred to as "Postbox Red," presumably named after the ubiquitous English mailboxes that come in the same hue. Unfortunately, that color is seemingly sold out, but the navy, which I may or may not have also bought, is still available. Either option looks great over a Breton-striped t-shirt and paired with some wide-legged white linen pants.
7. The Sweater That Got Away (Part 1)
I have dozens of eBay email alerts set up for a variety of clothing items that I either missed the first time around, predate my interest in fashion, or that I foolishly gave away in the foolishness of youth. This sweater, hailing from the Alesandro Michele era of Gucci (my second favorite Gucci era, surpassed only by the Tom Ford era that coincided with my first purchases from the label) is a perfect example of what Michele did best: taking prep and making it whimsical, verging on bizarre. When this piece popped into my feed, I could scarcely believe my luck, particularly once I was able to negotiate a very fair price from its seller and avail myself of eBay's free authentication program. I think it pairs particularly well with high-waisted, wide-leg chinos and a pair of brown loafers.
After everything you've read so far, this information may shock you, but I really dig sweater vests. At the outset of fall, I tend to wear them on their own — sometimes over an OCBD (Oxford cloth button-down), with or without a tie, or atop a simple white t-shirt. Later in the season, I think they look great under sport coats, knit jackets, or even shawl collar cardis. When I first discovered the Japanese designer Taiga Takahashi this fall, as part of a GQ round-up of emerging Japanese fashion brands, I found myself instantly charmed by his blend of workwear and Ivy-inspired styles.
I was particularly taken with his "Varsity Letterman Vest," which distinguishes itself via a deep ribbed V and an elongated ribbed hem. It's also among the softest noncashmere knits I've ever worn. Initially, the vest was only available from Japanese sellers, but with the aid of Google translate, I managed to find one that would ship to the states. It can now be acquired from C'H'C'M' in New York City, but it's also about 50% more expensive from a domestic retailer, so perhaps the extra effort is worth it.
5. The Sweater I Didn't Actually Buy in 2024
This sweater, a collaboration between my beloved Ralph Lauren and the skate brand Element, shouldn't really be on this list. I didn't buy it, nor did it become part of my collection in 2024. Instead, it was gifted to me at the end of 2023, as a Christmas gift from my father.
And yet: it is too awesome not to be part of this list. A remix of a famous piece from the now-defunct Polo Country sublabel, this update surpasses its source material. By darkening the color of the knit's background to an appealing shade that I'd call "biscuit" and undercutting the wholesome nostalgia of the original graphic by adding a (probably delinquent) skateboarder to the foreground, the piece becomes instantly more contemporary. Admittedly, this is not a sweater for the faint of heart, but paired with a simple pair of dark denim pants, I think it's a winner.
At the height of the pandemic, in June 2020, my family and I made the difficult decision to leave Brooklyn, where we had lived for the past decade. It was where our then five-year old son had been born and raised and where so many of our friends and family lived. Prior to the pandemic, our 2.5-bedroom apartment in Park Slope, with its small balcony overlooking our neighbor's garden, had felt relatively comfortable. But after several months of being confined within its walls, only leaving occasionally to walk the dog, with our five-year old bouncing off the walls, often literally, we began to consider the appeal of another kind of life. Around that time, I was offered a job by CoStar Group, the largest data analytics company in real estate and the owners of sites like Homes.com and Apartments.com, among others, to run the content team for LoopNet, the commercial real estate equivalent of Apartments or Homes.
It was the first job I had that I actually liked. I had enjoyed a relatively successful career up until then by combining my writing acumen with my almost ingrained knowledge of real estate, which was instilled in me by virtue of being born into a family with a thriving several-generations-old development company. But up until LoopNet, I had mostly been running marketing teams for larger commercial brokerage firms, churning out brochures, web site copy, and business development materials, none of which I found very rewarding.
At LoopNet, I had the opportunity to produce real editorial content. I built a team of full-time editors based in the U.S., Canada, Spain, and France. We expanded into video content, much of which I produced, wrote, and performed in. (If you've ever wondered what a cap rate is, you can watch me explain the concept, while wearing a rather fetching Ami sweater, here). Sure, it wasn't as fulfilling as working on my novel, but it was still the best job I ever had.
And then the bottom fell out. A huge push for Homes.com meant budget cuts for LoopNet, and despite my team's significant success by every metric, content was not an essential element for a rea estate listing site. We were a nice to have not a need to have, or so I was told. Me and my entire team were laid off in second week of 2024.
The day after I was fired, my family and I were supposed to travel to New York City to celebrate my brother's birthday. We had booked a suite at the William Vale and planned shopping excursions and high-end meals. My family was fortunate that we weren't solely dependent on the income from my CoStar job — see aforementioned family development business. We would be able to pay our mortgage and bills, but the firing still represented a significant loss in income, and it seemed frivolous to be spending money on trips to New York.
But my wife, in her enduring wisdom, encouraged me to see the trip through, and to not let the bastards get me down. And so, with our son in tow, we ventured north.
One afternoon during that trip, we found ourselves in Kai D. on Grand Street in Williamsburg, one of my favorite menswear shops from our Brooklyn era. I hadn't been there since the pandemic, and my wife and son were patient as Kai and I caught up and I tried on a multitude of garments.
There were a lot of items I would have been happy purchasing that day, but one stood out from the rest: a cardigan, almost a knit jacket, from the French manufacturer Fleur De Bagne. The materials were reminiscent of the infamous Browns Beach Cloth, but it was cozier, softer than its inspiration. It looked great with a pair of black pinstripe wool flannel pants, a tweed bakerboy hay, and a purple silk knit tie for a pop of color.
I loved it, but I hesitated. It seemed irresponsible considering my recent job loss. I had no business buying anything, let alone another sweater. Once again, though, my wife intervened, and I'm grateful she did.
I wore the sweater to my brother's birthday party that night, and I've donned it on numerous occasions since — it's probably my most worn sweater of 2024. I love it not merely for its aesthetic qualities, but for what that moment represented. After years of toiling in the corporate machine, I was a free agent, and I've spent the year since finishing the second draft of my novel (and starting on the third), pursuing an array of investments, and doing freelance writing, all while spending more time with my wife and son. It's been the best year of my professional life; possibly the best year of my life period. It's silly, perhaps, but this sweater is a tangible reminder of how it all began.
3. The Sweater That Got Away (Part 2)
This was another eBay purchase, and the page devoted to the listing seems to have vanished into the ether, as eBay listings are wont to do.
Menswear aficionados may be aware of the legend of Eidos Napoli; a sort of diffusion brand of the Isaia Napoli line. Under the helm of young designer Antonio Ciongoli, Eidos produced four brilliant collections before kind of, sort of, closing shop during the pandemic. Eidos continues to exist in some form, but its current wares feature none of the romance that Ciongoli infused into the line, which had conjured images of long walks in the Tuscan countryside. Lovers of the brand are so obsessive that one of them published a guide to help fellow menswear nerds distinguish Ciongoli-era Eidos from the lesser threads that followed.
The brand was always hard to find at retail, particularly its knitwear, and hasn't been much easier to turn it up on eBay or other resale sites in the years since. So, you can imagine how thrilled I was when I turned up this gorgeous cable-knit beauty. Its threads are a mélange of chocolate brown and charcoal; it's oddly lightweight and possesses an almost spongy hand that is shockingly soft. At $100, it's far and away the cheapest sweater on this list — and it's one of my favorites, particularly when paired with some raw denim, a bandana under the collar, and a camel-colored bakerboy cap. I can almost smell the fresh, intoxicating air of the Tuscan countryside just thinking about it.
2. The Sweater So Nice, I Bought It Twice
Before purchasing this sweater (the first time), I had never acquired anything from the Japanese designer Junya Watanabe. To be honest, I'm not much of a Comme Des Garcons stan (Watanabe's line is an offshoot of CDG), and Junya wasn't much on my sartorial radar. Then I caught this video from menswear influencer Isaac Hindin-Miller, in which he detailed his shopping haul from a recent trip to Tokyo, and I was immediately smitten with this piece. Several google searches later, I tracked one down at Haven. At first, I resisted; it was quite pricey for a recently unemployed gentleman, but my resolve crumbled when it went on sale. A couple of months later, when the same sweater in a white colorway popped up in a google ad at an ever deeper discount, I was no match for its lure.
While ostensibly a spring/summer sweater, as it's composed of a cotton and synthetic blend, this jam is pretty beefy — so it really works best early in the early spring and fall (particularly since the synthetic elements of the blend mean it doesn't breathe particularly well). But I also utilized it successfully in the summer, with white corduroy shorts, a dad cap, and a bandana. What I appreciate most about this piece is its versatility; it works in the aforementioned casual vein, but it's also equally banging with a rep-striped tie and some khakis or faded denim.
My mother passed away in 2022 — an iconoclast who instilled in me a love of travel, fine food, cannabis, and clothes. I miss her most at Christmas. My father often referred to me as her elf. Until she died, I assisted her in shopping for Christmas gifts for the entire family, and she spoiled me rotten for my services.
Each of the last three Christmases, I've somewhat dubiously honored her memory by buying myself a Christmas gift from her. This year, that present took the form of this Celine cardigan. It was my first purchase from a brand that I've admired since Hedi Slimane became its primary creative force, and an item I had gazed at longingly on the Mr. Porter site for more than a year. It's a ludicrous piece, indefensible in its cost, and it's exactly the kind of thing she would have bought me for Christmas and watched with joy in her eyes — no one had a twinkle like my mom — as I opened it and immediately tried it on. I miss her every day, but on the days I wear this cardigan that ache is accompanied by something a bit more joyful.
