I bought it at an outlet mall in Vegas. It served me well for five northern winters. The satin lining is torn, though perhaps disintegrating is a better word. A tailor offered to replace it, but the work would have cost more than the coat did. Anyway, nobody sees the lining. And the wooly outer is still perfect and the style is still just what I want.
I pulled it out of storage this morning to wear to work and suddenly realised that Brisbane winter isn’t unbearably cold after all: I just hadn’t been dressing for the falling temperatures. With my winter coat I can take on the world!
I reached into the pockets and felt the familiar textures of my leather gloves and knitted hat. That’s where they live, you see, so they’re always at hand on a cold morning without lots of digging through the closet. For so long it was my habit to belt my coat then pull on my hat and gloves that I think I developed muscle memory. I couldn’t find my GoCard when I got to work, because I’d autopiloted it into my coat’s Oystercard pocket.
I’m glad to have my coat today, but a little sad that it reminds me of another time.