I have an aran sweater I bought in Dingle, made by Mrs Mary Kennedy. I haven't seen it in years, but I'm sure its in a box somewhere. Except for skiing, I'm just not a sweater guy because they make me overheat. I suppose if I were a folk-singing Irish fisherman in my wind and rain-swept curragh, it might be just perfect, but the thought of donning one to take the stage and perform in Boston is fairly daunting.
My ex-wife told me a rather grim story about aran sweaters. She said each was woven in an individual pattern so that the woman could identify the body of her if he was drowned. "Here, Michael, see how I've woven ye this knot pattern in yer jumper the better to know ye when ye drown. And I've even woven a wee handle on the back, the better to fish ye out of the drink with."