The temperature has fallen and it is almost cool enough for a coat which brings to mind the first all-weather coat I ever owned and wore during a rainy European summer in my early teens.
Coming from the tropics, a coat was unheard of and it wasn't until we reached Florida that one could be found and then packed for the second and longest leg of our trip. It was tan with a hip seventies geometric design. A mere one hundred and ten pounds back then, most available coats were miles too long on me. It was the only one that fit. Among many adventures were the colder parts of Norway and Sweden and well worn by the time we made it to London, I fell asleep in it sitting on some steps inside Harrods. After several misty days, it came with me to Stratford-upon-Avon and was almost lost on the bus. A February weekend visit to Bogota one year later led to a tear on the left sleeve which never mended, expanded with time.
Returning to Panama's equatorial heat forced a temporary retirement, but only until my first Florida winter as a college student. After that, it was used only sporadically until the sleeve began separating so badly that a friend inquired whether I was practicing to be a bag lady at Halloween.
It seems funny to me that I can recall photos, places, people and journeys by what was worn or even eventually worn out. Never by any standard a clothes horse, I nonetheless had favorite garments, this being one, and I would wear each until it was utterly bedraggled unless it no longer fit.
I've sometimes wondered what happened to it after the fateful day I left it behind at a Goodwill...
Cheers on this chilly evening...
Coming from the tropics, a coat was unheard of and it wasn't until we reached Florida that one could be found and then packed for the second and longest leg of our trip. It was tan with a hip seventies geometric design. A mere one hundred and ten pounds back then, most available coats were miles too long on me. It was the only one that fit. Among many adventures were the colder parts of Norway and Sweden and well worn by the time we made it to London, I fell asleep in it sitting on some steps inside Harrods. After several misty days, it came with me to Stratford-upon-Avon and was almost lost on the bus. A February weekend visit to Bogota one year later led to a tear on the left sleeve which never mended, expanded with time.
Returning to Panama's equatorial heat forced a temporary retirement, but only until my first Florida winter as a college student. After that, it was used only sporadically until the sleeve began separating so badly that a friend inquired whether I was practicing to be a bag lady at Halloween.
It seems funny to me that I can recall photos, places, people and journeys by what was worn or even eventually worn out. Never by any standard a clothes horse, I nonetheless had favorite garments, this being one, and I would wear each until it was utterly bedraggled unless it no longer fit.
I've sometimes wondered what happened to it after the fateful day I left it behind at a Goodwill...
Cheers on this chilly evening...
4 comments:
That’s a wonderful story of your old coat I enjoyed reading about it. Thanks so much!
We probably don't own as many coats as other pieces of clothing. I probably can remember all my coats, including the one I lent to a friend from a sunnier climate when she had no coat in the frigid winter of Ohio. Eventually I just bought another coat.
I, too, remember specific items of clothing I've worn and loved. Like you, I'm not sure why.
This is a nice memory to share. I have a closet full of coats, but then I live in Minnesota.
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