I am the most beautiful, amazing sweater you ever saw and it's the only one left and it's perfect for you and it's in your size and it's on sale. You feel so lucky; it seems too good to be true. How is it possible that this beautiful sweater was overlooked by everyone else and now you are the winner who gets to own it? It's yours. It must be yours. It must be fate.
But when you take the time to look at it closely, you find the irremovable ink spot or the hole that's too big or awkward to fix and you realize there's a very good reason no one else has taken it. Of course no one else wants it, of course it seems like it was there just waiting for you, of course it will continue to hang there forever. In this way everyone comes across this sweater, becomes excited by the miracle of it, and feels disappointment upon finding its flaw. It's not fate. It's just bad merchandise.