My grandpa rocked a cardigan. Except there was no rocking involved (unless it was in his rocking chair). And the cardigan was nothing like this one. His was furry and had large wooden buttons. It had stretched out, ripped up pockets, in which he kept things like inhalers and prescription drugs and a jar of tiny artificial sweetener tablets for his coffee.

My grandpa probably wouldn’t have approved of this cardigan. It’s got a zipper. And some ribbed stuff. It’s a cardigan you could conceivably rock. No, grandpa wouldn’t have liked that one bit.