Each winter, when the temperature first dips below 30 degrees here in Boston and the air begins to smart with chill, I pull my puffy coat out of the closet.
The puffy is a welcome addition to my wardrobe. It is long, hits mid-calf on my legs, and is made of down, so it's very, very warm. It has a real-fur trimmed hood that looks pleasantly Eskimo when I wear it up. In addition to being warm, my coat is also surprisingly light and can squish up into an impossibly small ball. This makes it good for traveling.
It's like walking around in a sleeping bag all day long.
My puffy coat is every-so slightly too big for me (despite the fact that I bought it in the littlest size they had, extra small), and it's not exactly flattering to my mid-section. But the puffy miraculously guards against ALL elements, enabling me to wear short skirts with boots and questionably light sweaters, even when the snow drifts are high. It's like a suit of warm armor and for that reason I love it, am indebted to it, even.
Some time around mid-January I begin to get a little sick of my puffy coat. It no longer seems like a funny, practical addition to my wardrobe when I have to wear it every single day. I have other coats, sure, but none protect from ALL the elements the way this one does, with it's amorphous hood and water-proof exterior. It's an umbrella and a coat in one. It melts snow in it's tracks. So I continue to wear it, almost every single day...even though I now kind of hate my puffy coat.
And inevitably, somewhere around early-February, I begin to loathe my puffy coat. It start to feel way too hot half the time, and totally claustrophobic. I glimpse my reflection in windows and glass doors as I pass by on my way to work and I see myself as this tubby, sexless creature, schlepping along through dreary winter days. Sure, I'm warm and dry, but I definitely don't look hip or fasionable or pretty. I stomp along to my destination, either the office or Toro, and throw my puffy coay in a corner as far away from me possible, and refuse to look at it again until it's time to go back outside.
My puffy coat has become my prison.
I suppose that's what I get for living in Boston in winter. But still. How can a garment can be so good and soooo bad, all in the span of one long, dreary season?