Monday, December 3, 2007

Little Red Riding Coat

Question: What's better than being up at 2:15 in the morning on a Monday, drinking canned Arizona Green Tea and blogging?

Answer: a red coat.

I have wanted a red coat for months now, ever since I saw an anonymous girl walking to class in one on a rainy day. I had a purpose in life from then on: find a glamorous piece of the like to call my own. Covino and I got right on it, scouring the internet for all traces of crimson glory.

What with toggle coats being so popular, it was almost difficult to find a regular old double-breasted red coat. Also, I'm not a huge fan of wool. I know, I know, wool is great for winter and looks infinitely better than an equally warm puffer, but my delicate, princess-and-the-pea-esque skin simply cannot take a trace of itchiness. Also, I desperately needed a coat with full-length sleeves to brave the New England winter climate, since, to be honest, two of my favorite practical and fabulous coats are currently out of action until I put an end to my sordid love affair with the vending machine. Damn you, Oreo Cakesters, why can't I quit you?

Out-of-style Brokeback Mountain jokes aside, one day, I happened upon, which isn't one of the sites I regularly visit (I know almost every item on the Old Navy site, shamefully). Lo and behold, I saw the most amazing thing I ever imagined. Double-breasted! Cotton! Sleeves! Red like... oh, God, like something red! Like something red that I've dreamed about every night, only to wake up having disappointingly cocooned myself in my scarlet sheets. And compared to a coat I fell in lust with at J.Crew, it was a steal at only $68.50! That's incredibly cheap when it comes to making dreams come true.

I bought.

I waited.

And then one day, I received a package. And I took that package and ran like the dickens ("the dickens" being a phrase that needs to work its way back into popular language, by the way) back to my room in hopes that the damn thing would fit and I would be the happiest girl in the world.

It fits like a glove. I was afraid that it would be small, since Delias tends to run teeny, but it was exactly right. A single tear formed in my right eye. I thanked the Patron Saint of Outerwear-- Marc Jacobs?-- for his blessings.

me and the love of my life

This picture brought to my attention the fact this coat seriously needs an ironing, but I digress. And the shoes I'm wearing? Well, those beauties are for another post on the joys of metallics and Macy*s shoe sale racks.

As the owner of the best coat I ever dreamed of, I now follow several policies, set in stone, much like Hammurabi's Code.

1. Do not touch The Coat without authorization. Preferrably, you will be wearing sterile gloves.
2. The Coat is to be hung at all times when not on the body of its owner.
3. The Coat will not be lent out, unless dire circumstances exist.
4. The Coat will not be paired with scarves that shed tiny fuzzies, forcing its owner to cry and lint roll for long, tiring minutes.
5. Under no circumstances will there be spills that tarnish The Coat.
6. Under no circumstances will there be crumbs mercilessly tainting The Coat with their heinous touch.
7. Pray facing The Coat five times a day.
8. The Coat shalt not be compared with other coats. It is greater by far.
9. The Coat shall be praised aloud and with sincerity, no matter who's listening.
10. There is no Coat but The Coat, and God Himself is Its prophet.

Blasphemy? Where?

[unfortunately, this coat is no longer found on the delias website, last time I checked]

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