When I was helping my mum move recently by packing up years, actually decades, worth of stuff, I came across this nostalgic piece of my long ago home: a hand knitted woollen jumper hand knitted by my mum about 35 years ago.
I have childhood memories of this peachy pink jumper being worn then passed down amongst my sisters and amazingly, despite it being undoubtedly stretched, washed, and treated like a dishrag, it has survived all that time pretty much intact.
I love it when items of clothing are kept, used and loved then passed down within families. Its part of the reason why I love vintage clothing; the nostalgic and stories behind them really speak to me and they can say so much.
And finally it has found its way back to me. My little jumper may not be perfect, but its imperfections are pretty sweet. It speaks to me of home.