Ever feel so sure of something that you're ready to fight to the death to defend it? I have.
During this one specific scenario I'm referring to, I wasn't fighting for moral rights or world peace. I was fighting for my right to look like a homeless person. Not in a righteous, role playing, sensitive way. I wanted to wear a particularly amazing oversized, floor-sweeping Jil Sander coat that may or may not make me look like I am without shelter, not for any other reason than I believed I looked really really (pause) really ridiculously cool in it. (Please tell me you got that Zoolander reference. PLEASE.)
Allow me to
introduce myself my name is HOV rewind a bit. Last year, my mom and I were shopping at Barney's while they were having a badass sale. Ya know, harmless mother/daughter bonding sesh. While I was ferociously perusing their coat rack, I grabbed hold of a flicker of gold and knew in that instant we were meant to be together. When I say gold, I'm not being dramatic. This was an oversized, floor length, man tailored, black wool coat, the kind dreams are made of, with the internal lapel painted...you guessed it...GOLD.
I desperately swung it off the hanger and tried it on top of my seven layers of clothes, turned to my mom with the biggest smile and exclaimed "It fits!" It didn't really fit. It was a few sizes too big, but that's the whole point isn't it?! The bigger, the more shapeless, the better! My mom loved it too (she's cool like that) so we made a deal. We'll buy it! She would wear it the rest of the winter and I could get it next year. I was ecstatic. The winter was almost over anyway and I knew the connection I felt to this coat was worth waiting for.
Fast forward to this winter. I am at my parents house on a bitter cold winter day and remember my long lost lover hanging in the front closet. I whip it out and try it on (this time without the seven layers underneath), because - you know - this winter it's my turn. I skip down the hallway to remind my mom of the deal we had when I am met with faces of horror! Much to my dismay, my mother, sister and brother all looked at me with sad and pitiful faces and said some things along the lines of "ridiculous" and "homeless." I blocked out the rest. It was a real life intervention. They would not let me walk out of the house wearing my Jil! So what if I sweep the streets with my coat? So what if I look a little mid-century gothic? So what if it looks like I'm swimming in my outerwear? What's so wrong with looking homeless! I've met some pretty amazing people while volunteering at the local soup kitchen (honestly, no disrespect intended here) who I think would positively approve of this coat on me.
Heartbroken, I pulled a Passenger and Let Her Go (get it?), because what choice did I have? But guess what kiddies!!! Here's where the story takes a pique turn, are you read-eh? After all that hullabaloo, Mary Kate and Ashley come along to save the day with their latest collection for The Row. How, you ask? They showcased my Jil Sander's long lost, oversized, glorious twin sister: