I WAS WEARING THE SAME DARK SWEATER IN ALMOST EVERY FAMILY CHRISTMAS PHOTO. IT TOOK ME TEN YEARS TO NOTICE.

My mother had sweaters with little patterns across the shoulders and colors that made even a dull January morning look cheerful. She wore one to make breakfast and another to visit my aunt on Sundays.

I remember the feeling of them more than I remember the exact designs: warm, familiar, and full of personality.

For years, I told myself those kinds of sweaters were for somebody younger. Looking back, I don’t know who taught me that rule.

You buy something practical because you have errands to run. Then another because the first one wore out. Before long, you find yourself buying the same thing in slightly different shades.

You haven’t stopped caring about how you look. You’ve just got used to putting comfort first and hoping the rest will take care of itself.

But I don't think a woman needs to choose between being comfortable and wearing something she actually enjoys seeing in the mirror. I just needed someone to remind me.

I thought bright patterns would feel too much on me now. I thought a sweater with a little character would be harder to wear with the trousers and jeans I already owned.

Then I started looking through Katherine's vintage sweater collection. The Margella, soft gray with a band of reds, oranges and blues across the shoulders, looked almost exactly like the knits my mother used to wear. The Marivelle had the gentle teal and Nordic pattern I'd always liked. And the Veloria, a green sweater with a little flock of sheep across the front, was so cheerful I laughed out loud at the picture.

It wasn’t one sweater I wanted. It was the feeling of having a choice again.

It was Katherine’s Knitwear that made me look twice. Not because every sweater looked the same, but because they didn’t.

Some have nostalgic Nordic-inspired designs. Others have flowers, retro color combinations, or quieter vintage details. There’s room for the woman who wants a bit of color and the woman who prefers something understated.

Then I read Katherine's letter about more than thirty years in knitwear and her decision to retire. I didn't want to wait and find out the one I liked was gone.

It wasn’t that I suddenly needed a whole new wardrobe. I just stopped automatically dismissing the patterns I liked.

A little color is not the same as trying to dress young. A comfortable sweater with personality can still look perfectly at home at the grocery store, over coffee with a friend, or sitting around the kitchen table.

Sometimes the nicest change is simply giving yourself permission to choose something different.

One. Choose a pattern you genuinely enjoy. Not the one you think you are supposed to wear at your age.

Two. Check the size guide on the product page before you order. It's worth the extra minute, and it's how I got the right fit the first time.

Three. Imagine wearing it on a completely ordinary Tuesday. If it makes sense with the clothes you already own, that’s usually a good sign.

The sale prices were what first made me look twice. The Margella and the Marivelle were $59.95 each, and the Veloria was $64.95.

Because I couldn't choose, I took more than one, and that gave me an extra discount on top: 10% off for two, 15% off for three.

Katherine calls this her final Retirement Sale, so I wouldn't count on these prices coming back.

If we were sitting at my kitchen table with coffee while the first snow drifted past the window, this is what I would say.

Think about the last time you reached for something plain because it was easier. Maybe you told yourself you were past the age for color or patterns. I said that for years, and I had almost started to believe it.

A sweater does not change your life. Of course it does not. But a little warmth and a pattern you actually enjoy seeing in the mirror can make an ordinary winter morning brighter. I had forgotten that.

Two practical things: Katherine's Retirement Sale won't last, and the holidays are coming, along with all those photographs we say we don't care about until we see them years later. This year, I'll be wearing color in mine.

I did not stop loving beautiful sweaters. I had simply stopped looking for them.

— Susan