My Brown’s On Hers
About a month ago I met her. She was over-sized, reminding me of sleepaway camp in Big Bear.The strange scent that surfaces when you unroll the sleeping bag for the first time, the nerves, and the inability to keep your head warm are memories all too familiar. She smelled of campfires and marshmallows, speaking frankly with me as if to say, “I exist merely to keep you warm.” I remember looking at her for the first time, thinking to myself, “Can I pull it off?” I suppose there comes a time (this is difficult to admit) where warmth is far more vital than a silhouette, so despite my affinity for fabric I purchased her, nylon and all.
Her name is Big Brown Coat (BBC) and she has quickly become my new best friend. 80% Duck Down and 20% Waterfowl Feather, she has both zipper and snaps stretching all the way down to my shins, as if to say, “OK wind, try and get in here.”
She is one tough cookie.
When other women pass by her in the street she is proud. Although the fine wool on their toggle-fastened peacoats often brushes the arms of my sleeves in a “ha, nylon” type of manner, Big Brown has hyper-sensitive hearing and can hear them whining inside. They are freezing, and miserable. There is nothing fashionable about Big Brown and I wouldn’t give her up for anything.
Until Spring. You better believe she’s getting rolled up in a box at the first sign of the season.
