In my early twenties I had a boyfriend with very eccentric tastes in clothing. He would appear in a luridly striped blazer, a straw boater and co-respondent shoes - in fact, he had no normal clothes. We spent some time browsing in a wonderful shop called The Scottish Merchant" where he bought a complex, authentic Fair Isle pullover for £11. Now, that's nothing of course, but then it was two weeks wages.
Since I could knit, I bought a pattern and cast on. It was asleeveless pullover in grey and blue stripes and I'd got quite a lot knit when he remarked that he couldn't see himself wearing it. That may have been the moment that I realised it was a doomed relationship.