The Coat

It was 1982. I first saw it on one of my many lunch break trips to that magical, gargantuan Center City Philadelphia landmark, John Wanamaker. I lived and breathed for that store, as did my mother. I'd go at lunch. After work. I'd drag anyone I could with me. When I met someone there, usually my BFF Mark, it would be at the eagle. The huge eagle statue at the center of the main floor, where shellacked matrons sold Estee Lauder and the nightly organ concerts rivaled anything heard in a cathedral. One day, I spied the coat. Plum fake fur, which is now Faux Fur. Collarless, with those charming little hooks that real fur coats have. Three quarter length, perfect for my little shortness. Plush, glam, kind of punk rock looking. I adored it. It was outrageously priced as most things on the third floor were. I could never afford it, and I did not want my parents to but it for me, as they would have done had they known. I was an adult, divorced with a child. I had no business with a coat like that anyway. Not for the fashion, which was totally me! me! me! but for the crazy pricetag. I didn't even need a winter coat. I had my pea coat and my pretty, long, cream colored coat for fancy. But this coat took fancy to a whole new level. So, I visited it. Every few days, I'd try it on, prancing around in it, in my black pencil skirt and heels, or my very cool pegged pants, or.....hold on to yourselves....my parachute pants. After a few weeks it went on sale. A few more weeks and it was half price. ZING! I snatched that thing up like it was the last biscuit. Oooohhhhh how gorgeous it was! Lovely, luxe, and so "chi chi" as we said back then. I bought it a pair of matching suede heels, a plum silk blouse, a fuschia lipstick. These things were for the coat, not me. It was worth three times the price for the joy and pride it gave me. When I wasn't wearing it I would go into my closet and pet it. I'd love to say I still had it, or that I knew what became of it. I do know the lining eventually ripped. A few years later, it was gone. It went the way of the parachute pants, bowling shirts and clear jelly shoes worn with crazy colored socks. But when it was mine, wasn't I just "it"' and wasn't that fine?