My Grandmother’s Sweater is 15 Years Old and Still Perfect (While I Keep Ruining Mine)

I’m sitting here in Target’s parking lot wearing this navy sweater my mom bought me when Jackson started kindergarten three years ago, and it’s honestly the only piece in my wardrobe that still looks decent after surviving multiple playground incidents and approximately seventeen juice box explosions. Which got me thinking about how I used to have this beautiful cream cashmere sweater I bought during my working days – you know, back when I had disposable income and time to actually shop for myself – and how I destroyed it within two months by throwing it in with the kids’ laundry on hot. Because apparently sleep deprivation makes you forget basic fabric care.

The thing is, I never really learned about quality when I was growing up in Iowa. We bought everything at JCPenney during their sales, wore it until it fell apart, then replaced it with whatever was cheapest. My mom would buy us those acrylic sweaters from the juniors section that would pill after one wash, but hey, they were twelve dollars and came in fun colors. Quality wasn’t really on our radar when you’re trying to clothe three kids on a secretary’s salary.

Then I moved to Minneapolis, got my PR job, and suddenly thought I was very sophisticated shopping at places like Banana Republic and J.Crew. I remember buying this black wool sweater for like ninety dollars and feeling so grown-up, like I’d finally made it. That sweater lasted me through my entire twenties, survived countless work presentations and date nights, and I probably would still have it if I hadn’t donated half my wardrobe during one of those post-pregnancy body changes when nothing fit right and I was convinced I’d never wear real clothes again.

God, the mistakes I made rebuilding my wardrobe after kids. I went through this phase where I’d order sweaters online without checking the fabric content, just looking for something that seemed cute and wasn’t covered in cartoon characters. Ended up with so many synthetic blend disasters that would get those little pills all over them after one wear. Emma would point at my sweaters and ask why they looked “fuzzy” – out of the mouths of babes, right?

The worst was this supposedly “cashmere-feel” sweater I got from one of those Instagram ads during a particularly vulnerable 2 AM feeding session. Twenty-five dollars for “luxury” cashmere… I should have known better, but when you’re functioning on three hours of sleep and haven’t bought yourself anything nice in months, your judgment gets questionable. Thing felt like sandpaper and shed all over everything. My husband found cashmere-colored fuzz in his coffee mug for weeks.

But I’m learning, slowly. Mostly through expensive mistakes and the occasional good advice from other moms who’ve figured this stuff out. Like my neighbor Sarah, who somehow always looks put-together at school pickup in these beautiful sweaters that never seem to pill or lose their shape. Turns out she invests in a few really good pieces instead of buying tons of cheap ones – revolutionary concept, right?

So here’s what I’ve figured out about sweater quality, mostly through trial and error but also some research during naptime when I should have been doing literally anything else productive.

First off, merino wool is your friend when you’re a mom. It’s soft enough that it won’t irritate your skin when you’re carrying a squirmy toddler, but durable enough to handle regular washing. I’ve got this gray merino sweater from Everlane that’s survived two winters of constant wear, multiple spit-up incidents, and Jackson’s phase of wiping his hands on my clothes instead of napkins. Still looks great, though it did develop a small hole near the hem when I caught it on our broken dishwasher handle. Note to self – fix dishwasher handle.

Lambswool is tougher but can be a bit scratchy at first. I have this navy lambswool cardigan that felt like wearing a Brillo pad for the first few wears, but it’s softened up beautifully and has become one of my go-to pieces. Perfect for those Minnesota mornings when it’s thirty degrees but you know it’ll warm up to sixty by afternoon. The structure holds up really well too – no saggy elbows or stretched-out cuffs even after tons of wear.

Now, cashmere. Oh, cashmere. I have such a complicated relationship with cashmere. It’s incredibly soft and luxurious and makes you feel like you have your life together even when your kitchen counter is covered in Goldfish crackers and permission slips you forgot to sign. But it’s also high-maintenance and expensive and I’ve ruined so many cashmere pieces through sheer mom chaos.

The problem is that affordable cashmere – like what you find at Target or Uniqlo – is usually made from shorter fibers that pill almost immediately. I learned this the hard way with a dusty pink sweater that looked like it had been attacked by a lint roller after two wears. Meanwhile, the good cashmere costs more than my monthly grocery budget, which is hard to justify when there’s a decent chance it’ll meet its demise via chocolate milk or finger paint.

If you do invest in cashmere, check that it’s two-ply at minimum. The single-ply stuff is basically tissue paper masquerading as luxury knitwear. And for the love of all that’s holy, read the care instructions. I know we’re all used to throwing everything in the washer on hot and hoping for the best, but cashmere requires actual care. Hand wash in cool water with wool detergent, lay flat to dry, treat it like the precious thing it is.

Alpaca wool is this hidden gem that I only discovered recently. My sister-in-law brought me back this alpaca sweater from a trip to Colorado, and I was skeptical because alpaca sounds scratchy and rustic. But it’s actually incredibly soft and warm without being bulky. Plus it’s less likely to pill than cashmere, which is a major selling point when you live in constant fear of fabric deterioration.

The construction details matter way more than I ever realized back in my JCPenney days. When you’re looking at sweaters, check the seams. Cheap ones often have these visible stitched seams that are basically held together with glorified thread. They’re the first thing to give way when you’re reaching across the car to buckle a car seat or lifting kids onto playground equipment.

Better quality sweaters have what’s called fully-fashioned seams where the pieces are actually knitted to shape and then linked together. You can spot them by looking for little bumpy stitches along the seam – they’re smoother and way more durable. My good sweaters have these, and they’ve held up to everything my kids can dish out.

The ribbing at the cuffs and hem is another thing to check. It should feel substantial but not tight. I have this one sweater where the cuffs stretched out after the first wear and now they just hang there sadly, making the whole thing look sloppy. Learned my lesson about checking that elastic recovery before buying.

Can we talk about necklines for a second? I lived in crew necks for years because that’s just what you buy, right? Basic crew neck sweaters in navy and gray and black. But lately I’ve been branching out, and it’s been revelatory. V-necks are actually more flattering, especially when you’re dealing with post-nursing body changes. They don’t cut across your neck in that harsh way that makes you look like you’re being strangled by knitwear.

I bought this burgundy v-neck sweater last fall and got more compliments on it than I’d gotten on clothes in months. Turns out when you’re not wearing the same style as everyone else’s mom uniform, people notice. Who knew?

Turtlenecks are having a moment too, though I’m still working up the courage. There’s something very chic and put-together about a good turtleneck, but there’s also something very “I’m trying too hard for school pickup” about them. Maybe when the kids are older and I care less about other moms’ judgments.

The money part is tough because good sweaters aren’t cheap, and when you’re operating on a household budget that includes things like soccer cleats and piano lessons, spending a hundred and fifty dollars on a sweater feels ridiculous. But I’ve learned that buying cheap usually means replacing things constantly, which ends up costing more in the long run.

My strategy now is to buy fewer, better pieces. Instead of getting three okay sweaters, I save up for one really good one. It’s taken some willpower – especially when I see cute cheap options at Target – but my wardrobe is so much more functional now. I have maybe six sweaters total, but they all fit well, look good, and have held up to regular wear.

Brands I’ve had good luck with include Everlane for basics, though their quality has gotten a bit inconsistent lately. Madewell does nice sweaters when they’re on sale, and their fit works well for my post-kids body. J.Crew is hit or miss – some pieces are great, others fall apart quickly. I’ve found some amazing vintage wool sweaters at thrift stores too, though you have to be careful about moth damage and weird smells.

The care part is where I used to fail spectacularly. I would buy a beautiful sweater and then treat it like it was a dish towel, throwing it in with everything else and wondering why it looked terrible after a few washes. Now I actually read care labels – revolutionary, I know.

Most good sweaters can be machine washed on the delicate cycle with cold water and wool detergent, but you have to lay them flat to dry. Hanging wet sweaters is basically guaranteed to stretch them out of shape – learned that one the hard way with a cream cable knit that ended up looking like a dress after I hung it up damp.

Hand washing is ideal but let’s be real, who has time for that? I compromise by using mesh laundry bags and the gentlest cycle possible. And I’ve learned to reshape sweaters while they’re damp, smoothing them back to their original dimensions before laying them flat. Game changer.

Storage matters too. I used to just shove everything in drawers, but now I fold sweaters properly and use cedar blocks to keep moths away. Found a hole in one of my favorite cardigans last spring and realized I’d been basically inviting moths to feast on my wardrobe. Now everything gets the cedar treatment, and I check for signs of moth activity regularly like some kind of textile detective.

The thing about good sweaters is they get better with age, not worse. My best pieces have this lived-in softness that can’t be replicated with new clothes. They’ve molded to my body, developed this subtle patina that makes them look expensive even when they’re not. Meanwhile, the cheap synthetic ones just look sadder and pilled after every wash.

I’m at the point now where I’d rather wear the same few good sweaters constantly than have a closet full of mediocre ones. Quality over quantity isn’t just a fashion cliche – it’s actually more practical when you’re a mom who needs clothes that work hard and look good doing it.

Jackson asked me the other day why I always wear the same sweaters, and I tried to explain about quality and investment pieces and taking care of things so they last. Pretty sure it went over his six-year-old head, but maybe someday he’ll understand why his mom is so particular about fabric content and seam construction. Or maybe he’ll just remember that mom always smelled faintly of cedar blocks and got weirdly excited about finding good knitwear at thrift stores.

Either way, I’m done with disposable fashion and synthetic blends that pill after one wash. Life’s too short and budgets are too tight to keep replacing the same mediocre pieces. Give me wool that lasts and sweaters that improve with age – even if it means wearing the same few favorites on rotation while I slowly build a collection of pieces that actually deserve closet space.