Many years ago someone, maybe the UK Overcoat Federation’s Head of Marketing, told me “You can never own too many coats, Gary!”
Actually, coming to think of it, as I’ve never spoken to the Head of Marketing for the UK Overcoat Federation, or indeed even know if the role or society exists, I can say with some certainty the advocacy’s bearer wasn’t him, or her (blimey, that saved a letter)… However, although, not sought at the time (or since), someone did once furnish me with that advice
I thought about this life steer on Saturday whilst strolling the malls of an Edinburgh retail outlet. This unscheduled tarry taking place after heavy rainfall robbed us (my partner Sarah and I) of touring Scotland’s capital city, as we’d originally planned.
The overcoat guidance springing to mind while mulling over whether to purchase a lightweight Trespass jacket; clobber which’d turned my head while I randomly eased past its rail. This garment seeming to beckon me like a siren alluring sailors to their deaths in Greek Mythology.
Footnote – Trespass is the brand name of the aforementioned item. Yours truly wasn’t suggesting I contemplated buying the jacket to wear while undertaking the felony of trespass… That being said, should life events lead me down that stark avenue, it was black so would’ve provided decent camouflage for planned nighttime encroachments.
Similar to a Superdry anorak I impulse bought last week, as Saturday’s episode played out, I was fully aware my already well-stocked wardrobe didn’t require augmenting with this item of clothing. Yet somehow, in what would be a second nonessential jacket purchase in under seven days, I still felt drawn towards procuring the coat.
With the pragmatic spirit residing on my right shoulder pleaded “Don’t do it, Gary!… You’ve got loads of outer clothing protection for your torso!“, sadly the spendthrift voice on my left implored me to “Get it, Gaz!… You’ll look great in it!”
Other than admonishing my pragmatic side for the unnecessary long use of ‘outer clothing protection for your torso‘ instead of just utilising the word coats, I didn’t respond to either party.
Still undecided, yours truly unzipped my three day old Superdry coat I was wearing, handing it to Sarah with the words “Hold this please, love… I’m gonna try this black jacket on… Oh, and don’t steal the credit card in my inside pocket!”
Upon trying on the Trespass coat I’d just unceremoniously snatched from it’s rail hanger, my Ossett beau felt moved to comment “You should buy it, Gaz… It really suits you!”
Like most fellas, irrespective of how ‘Emperors new clothesish’ his squeezes opinion, if their love suggests they look good in an item of clothing it’s nailed on within an hour the garment will hold pride of place in their wardrobe… Unless, of course, they’re undies or socks which don’t get hung in wardrobes… Although, thinking about it, you don’t ordinarily try undies or socks on in a store which renders that point moot… As you were, troops.
After Sarah had ‘sanctioned’ the purchase as a sound investment for augmenting my sartorial elegance the decision was made. That was it, GJ Strachan’s intention of contributing further to the British GDP was merely moments away.
Unzipping the upcoming purchase, I removed it from my torso. Followed by returning the blue Superdry coat, which after earlier exposure to rainfall was ironically super wet, as my overgarment. Yours truly then heading toward the checkout with the Trespass jacket.
While queuing like an excitable child awaiting an audience with Santa, I smiled contentedly in the knowledge I’d shortly own an item which would catapult me to ne’er before attained levels of suave and sophistication.
Upon reaching the tills I handed the garment to the sales assistant; prior to reaching into the Superdry coat’s inside pocket to retrieve my wallet. Opening the leather accessory causing me to turn to my beau, rhetorically inquiring “Have you seen my credit card, Sarah?!”
