Okay, so I was in Florence last May, and went to a lovely little yarn store called Campolmi Roberto Filati, which I found via Nicky Epstein. It's a lovely store, large and chock full of fibery goodness. The language barrier was noticeable until an English-speaking employee stepped in to help translate.
I should've bought some cashmere- we picked up a sweater quantity of cashmere yarn for my mother-in-law, who celebrated her birthday just before our trip. When the yarn lady quoted me a price for the cashmere, I started laughing. I couldn't help it! It was about 50% of the cost of similar-quality cashmere in the US. So inexpensive. It was about the same as a regular skein of superwash.
I picked up only two things, but I made them count. Both are GIANT skeins of worsted yarn, dyed in the shop.
Yep, a worsted sweater, even though it's currently 103°F (39.4°C) here.
Yep, a worsted sweater, even though I just finished a sweater project and determined I needed a break from major garments.
Yep, a worsted sweater, instead of cracking into any of the various other yarns I have in my stash, doing a lovely little hat or a pair of super-bulky-fun-fur-electric-house-stomper socks.
What is wrong with me? Seriously?!