My Two Turtlenecks: Sunny Side S'up

I'm posting about my two turtlenecks because they remind me of that show "My Two Dads."  You know, the one from the late '80s with Paul Reiser and that other guy and the girl who ended up on "Step by Step" (IMDb says her name is Staci Keanan).  Not because it was a great show (it wasn't).  But because it took place in an apartment with a car in it.  Not in a car accident-kind-of-way, but in a car-as-art-kind-of-way.  Because the non-Paul Reiser guy was an artist.  (IMDb says his name is Greg Evigan).

The girl in the show had two dads because her mom died and didn't know which of her ex-boyfriends was the father.  Racy stuff for that time.  But 1987 was a big year for sitcom families with more than one dad (I'm talking to you, "Full House."  Even if your extra two papas were just mullet-sporting, low-rent entertainment biz uncles.)  That said, I have two (identical) turtlenecks because, like fatherless waifs all over the world, I've been on the search all my life.  Or, at least since I chucked my last daffodil-hued standby five years ago.  (Sadly, despite not being acrylic, it had a mad case of the pills.)  I have so many sleeveless blouses and dresses in need of the kind of warmth -- both in color and fabric -- that can come only from the type of top preferred by tortoises, in the shade of hot, melty Velveeta.  Are these two tops ever so slightly boxier than I would've liked?  Um, is Uncle Jesse still a San Francisco treat?  (The answer is an unequivocal yes.)  Nevertheless, I wasn't about to let a little thing like a less-than-perfect fit stop me from stocking up on such a coveted and hard-to-come-by commodity.  In my experience, most people shy away from yellow, which is why stores don't carry a lot of clothes in that color.  So when I saw this top in the Wild Fable corner of Target, I pounced.

I decided to photograph my dynamic duo with a couple of my old '80s-inspired felt necklaces that are almost -- but not quite -- the same.  I like to think of them as fraternal twins.  Like two dads that are the same but different, one a free spirit in a leather jacket and the other a buttoned-up nerd in a tie.  But both full of love for their daughter.  In this analogy, I'm the daughter.  And it's the turtlenecks that are my dads.       

Now all I need is that car.

And, of course, a bucket of Velveeta.