Not a product. A garment made by a woman named Mirela Vascanu who lives on Stack 14, Shelf-adjacent, and has been knitting since she was a child in what was once coastal Romania. She uses reclaimed wool-analog yarn — sourced from a salvage operation that pulls fibers from discarded textile waste and re-spins them — and the result is a dense, cabled pullover in creams and heathered browns that looks like something out of a different century. The cables are a specific pattern her grandmother taught her. No two are identical.

Mirela sells perhaps thirty a year, by word of mouth only. The waiting list is informal. You know someone who knows her. The sweaters are not fashionable in any conventional sense — they're too heavy, the fit is not slim — but people who own one wear it until it falls apart, and then bring the remains back to Mirela to see if the yarn can be salvaged. In a city of manufactured goods, this is the rarest possible thing: something made slowly, by one person, for no reason except that she knows how.