Saturday, 30 April 2011

The Coat

Isn’t it funny how sometimes you really want something, and suddenly it just appears?

When I was 12, I wanted a pink surfboard. ‘Bright pink, it has to be bright pink!’ I told my dad as we drove to the surf shop. Lo and behold, when we got inside, my gaze fell upon a pink surfboard, exactly the right size and surprisingly inexpensive. Fate? Coincidence? I don’t know. But it happened again last week.

I was in search of a coat. Not just any coat, but a long black leather coat, the kind worn by Spike and Angel on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or other mysterious and badass fictional heroes/villains. In Melbourne the other day, we found ourselves at the giant op-shop, Savers. I dodged around the inner-city hipsters wearing fedoras and Doc Martens, and found it on the rack as if by magic.

(That's what I'm talking about. Pic copyright

Floor-length, vintage black leather. In my size, too! Praise upon the fashion gods, I had found my coat of badassery. I tried it on. Thought about it. Ummed and ahhed. A hipster girl in a bowler hat and eyeliner caught my eye and gave me an encouraging nod. That was good enough for me.

Now it’s hanging in my cupboard. It’s the kind of coat you wear for fighting the forces of darkness and solving mysteries. However, there’s a bit of a shortage on evil where I live, so I think I’ll wear it for walking the dog around the park. Only when it gets really cold though.

Or I could wear it to get inspired. It is the kind of coat a writer would wear, though probably while they’re starving in a garret, not typing on a laptop in their bedroom.  (Query: what is a garret? And why do creative types always live in them? And why must you starve in them? Can you not be a writer in a garret who lives on nachos and chai latte?)

So, yeah, just like that, I have my coat. Now I’d really like to find a million dollars.


Damn. It was worth a try.

Au revoir,

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