My mother has a strong fashion sense, of what’s appropriate to wear under all circumstances. She used to try to get me to wear cardigans to all the remotely formal events I was dragged along to. I despised cardigans: I thought I looked old, dowdy. She’d try to entice me by selecting “fun” cardigans: sequined cardigans, lace cardigans, pink ones, ones with tiny animals on them. I firmly resisted. Now I wear the occasional cardigan, and my deep-rooted hatred has turned to a mild appreciation.