In the new movie Knives Out, Chris Evans (6-feet zero-inches, max morning height) throws his entire big ole Captain America body into a chunky winter white sweater that—no hyperbole—will send you into a thirst-induced coma for which the only antidote is a kiss on the lips from ::checks medical textbook:: Chris Evans.
Have I, in the last few days, proudly typed the words “I want that sweater to punch me in the face”? Maybe so. But to quote the song “Fast Car”: “Me myself, I got nothing to prove.” ::logs off::
::logs back on:: WHAT I’M SAYING IS I’M HORNY FOR HYGGE, OKAY?!
My knives? Out. My knits? On, baby!
I don’t want to sound extreme, but you scientists need to hurry up and finish time travel so Chris Evans’ sweater can go back to the moment of my birth and swaddle my little Baby Yoda body in its cable-knit cords for my entire life. Then, per the instruction in my living will, it will eventually wrap my wrinkled Old Yoda body in its cashmere purls as I am buried wearing only Chris Evans’ perfect ecru Aran sweater from the classic film Knives Out. That’s all I want. Simple.
Evans is having qwhite the fall in cozy cream colors. Notoriously, he wore the hell out of an off-white double-breasted corduroy suit to the premiere of the film. While I was initially resistant to the lewk, he has fully won me over with these light-colored outfits. Pull out the stain stick, Chris Evans hive: we’re eating good!
What a meal!
Let’s take a moment to consider the tiny hole in Evans’ collar that costume designer Jenny Eagan ripped with a Dremel to show his character’s brutish carelessness with precious things. (Wow, I am blushing typing that sentence. Logs off again.) I would like to burrow inside that little sweater hole, set up a little Hobbit house in it with a cross-stitched sign that reads “bless this mess” and another that reads “America’s Ass: thataway!” with a little arrow pointing down.
I want to personally thank Chris Evans and Jenny Eagan for finally allowing me the gift of seeing myself represented on screen because, like this sweater, I am very distressed. Some would say artfully, some would say “for attention.” Like the movie, it’s a mystery.
Eagan said, in an interview with The Hollywood Reporter, that Evans’ costume fitting was so quick, she doesn’t recall the actual brand of the spectacular sweater that I will be dreaming about for the rest of my life. Can you believe that we, as a people, have suffered the loss of this knowledge? This is the modern equivalent of losing the Library of Alexandria.
I realize that this is the reason I was put on this Earth: to find and purchase every white Aran sweater in the hopes that I can someday stumble upon the one that Chris Evans wore in Knives Out, which, apparently, I think will also make me look like I have a body like Chris Evans. Don’t put it past the sweater! Anything is possible with Aran! It’s like I’m the host of a murder cold case podcast searching for the truth, but instead of murder the central question is “Is this the sweater?” The name of the podcast is Unraveling. Instant hit.
Is this the sweater?!
Or maybe it’s this one!
This second one is from Aran Sweater Market, a store with a name so on-the-nose for my pursuit and models so hot, it must be a trap. Ah well, in I go, podcast mic in hand.
One of the delightful things about Aran Sweater Market is that their photos range from simple shots of models in super-bright light to, well, this:
Okay, big 1940s serve happening here. Dunkirk Daddy, etc. Why is it sepia-toned? Why does this look like one of those photos a friend puts up on TBT with the caption “Wow, my granddad used to be a SNACK bish! ?”? It looks like a magical picture a Saoirse Ronan character finds at a flea market, sending her down a rabbit hole of romance and intrigue in a time-hopping World War II-era saga. Would watch.
The Aran Sweater Market also sells Aran leggings which I am contractually obligated to purchase because, in my mind, it is like receiving a full-lower-body hug from Chris Evans. This is all I need from now on. I’m going to spend the entire winter in head-to-toe Chris Evans-white cable-knit. Just as cozy as can be: hygge, horny, and happy.