Well Worn - February 2010

I have never been to the University of Michigan. I don’t know anyone – with the exception of the daughter (whom I have never met) of a friend I rarely see – who attended the University of Michigan. I’ve never even been to the state of Michigan. So why am I so attached to my old, blue University of Michigan sweatshirt?

It started in 1967. That summer I went looking at colleges. No, I didn’t go to Michigan or even consider it. But we did take a family trip to Massachusetts, where I looked at several colleges, including the University of Massachusetts. I bought the requisite sweatshirt, put in an application – and was rejected. Apparently, I bore no grudge, because I wore that UMass sweatshirt until – and beyond when – it was threadbare, sleeping in it for years. It was comfy and I felt cozy wearing it. Finally, deterioration set in, and I cycled in a different sweatshirt – my New York Yankee sweatshirt– for nocturnal duty. My BFF had bought that one for me and I loved it. Loved it so much, in fact, that I asked for another one – same brand, please – as an eventual replacement when the armholes ripped, the collar portion frayed and it was impossible to wash without risk of complete deterioration in the washing machine. I didn’t care about the affiliation. Hence the arrival of the University of Michigan sweatshirt.

That’s right, in 40+ years, I have nursed three – count ‘em, three – sweatshirts through countless washes in many washing machines as I have slept in them (the shirts, not the washing machines). First they see the light of day, but eventually they are turned into nighttime apparel, you see. I like a loyal garment, one that has stuck with me through thick and thin – and I’ve been both, believe me. (Let me clarify for those of you wondering that I do, in fact, wear other garments to bed. The sweatshirts are my favorites for late fall and winter only, since they are too hot to wear when the temperature is high. Now, don’t you feel better knowing that?)

You shouldn’t make fun of me. You undoubtedly have worn something that caused your significant other to roll his/her eyes and perhaps even say, “You’re not wearing THAT again, are you?” I know many people who have old, old clothing in their closets, clothing that the Salvation Army would reject. Maybe they just wear these items and don’t talk about them (and I can kind of see why). My favorite sister had an old bathrobe that was so thin and ratty that my mother and I kidnapped it one day and threw it out. She eventually got over it – or at least I think so.

I have been to J.C. Penney’s, where it was purchased, to try to find a shirt similar to the University of Michigan shirt, but to no avail. I got a new blue University of Massachusetts sweatshirt as a gift from a friend a few years ago, but it is not the same. I’ve worn it, but never to bed. I’m trying to keep life in the old University of Michigan model, treating it gingerly, taking it off gently, never pulling the area around the neck. I put it only briefly in the dryer, trying to preserve its structural integrity.

So what will I do when this one wears out?

A few years ago, friend Carol B. gave me a sweater/sweatshirt unlike anything already in my closet. It is gray, with a Henley style neck, and it says “Jersey Girl” on the front. It is thick and soft, and it looks more sweater than sweatshirt, but it isn’t itchy inside. Already, I consider it my comfort item, donning it for daytime wear at the first sign of frost and feeling all warm and cozy in it. After wearing it during the day, I might just sleep in it that night. I think it is safe to deem it the replacement shirt, as Jersey Girl eventually takes over the role of Michigan in my nighttime wardrobe. (I liked the shirt so much that Carol bought me a second one, this time in a teal color. But the fabric wasn’t the same and, though I wear it during the day, I don’t see it assuming a place in my nighttime attire.)

But when Jersey Girl wears out? Well, judging by the longevity of my sweatshirts, I might be all worn out myself by then.