Women's Coats: Past & Present

Why is it that, when we are small, our parents insist on wrapping us in coats, scarves and gloves that drown our petite frames, while themselves sufficing with a nice sweater and casual scarf? Do they not understand that it is we, the kids, who have the higher metabolism and body temp? Clearly not, or at least not in my case, as most of my childhood winter memories consist of the varying colors and textures of coat-based torture my parents would impose, all the while also insisting on cutting of my ability to breathe through my nose with the unnecessary addition of the world's itchiest scarf.

They say that as adults, we either gravitate towards or repel away from the things that made the greatest impressions during our formative years. As such, it would make perfect sense to me, always having been far more of a rebel than a conformist, had I turned out to be a nudist. So tightly wrapped were my sister and I for even the briefest of journeys that for years my only mental association with Christmas was the matching bright green monogrammed sweaters we would wear underneath the puff-tastic royal blue, down-filled coats and the resultant itchy sweat.

So imagine my mother's surprise - not to mention the sheer irony - of the fact that I am now something of a coat-addicted fiend. Today I have no less than ten in my closet, everything from short sleeved and trendy to long and flowing; late Spring white to early Fall floral. Perhaps it is owed to my tendency to otherwise dress in monochrome outfits, but whatever the case, I now use my coats as much as a fashion statement and defining accessory as I do for protection from intemperate elements.

I can even pinpoint the very first purchase I made that led to my becoming what could easily be considered a collector. I had just moved to London and the weather there was far colder than I had anticipated, and as such my winter clothes were still in transit from the US. Realizing I would need some form of fashionable warmth long before my sea container arrived, I walked into Selfridges and found myself a soft, fine-wool, full-length whipstitch tailored trench. It was amazing. The errand I had dreaded turned into a transformative moment, both for my perception of coats and the health of my bank account. I looked elegant; commanding; impressive. I looked like an adult, and I was hooked.

Now as October begins to turn towards November, I find myself longing for the first solid week of consistently cold temps, so that I may begin with the first phase of breaking into coat weather. First there will be the unlined D&G, followed soon thereafter by the short sleeve, grey Tse. And hopefully before Christmas the opportunity will arise to bring out the full-length cashmere MaxMara in cream. Underneath I may be wearing solid gray or black, but on the outside I wear my personality in the form of a coat.

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