my jackets represent me

I used to hate winter. I preferred summertime because I hated how much preparation would go into a five-minute trip outside. Curating a warm outfit, just for it to be destroyed by an unnecessarily thick winter jacket was demoralizing for my already fading fashion headspace. 

Then, I started collecting coats and let myself stop being confined by one jacket. Rather than hiding an outfit, I let them enhance it. They make a statement. Seeing how they intertwine with a minimalistic outfit of neutrals, I like how they add a burst of color and texture--letting the clothes pop with boldness. Walking through thrift stores and department malls, I don’t ignore the racks of jackets in denial of the weather; instead, I look for pieces that remind me of experiences or the pieces that catch my eye. Like they enhance my clothes, they shape the way I act and perceive when I wear them, adding a hint of extravagance to bland days. 

The jacket that sparked my interest in coats was a leather jacket I found in the long untouched closets in the basement. Formerly, I had an issue with the puffy winter coats. I didn’t like how they suffocated me, no matter how oversized I bought them. I didn’t like how they took up too much space and left my backpack straps uneven, forcing me to rearrange them throughout the school day. The leather blazer was heavy but thin. Authentic leather with unauthentic city-like aesthetics; causal and unconfining. 

On a cold day, stranded at an outlet mall, I ran into a cheap overstock store to semi-impulsively buy the first thick jacket I could find. It was August and no reason to be that cold, a navy blue fleece was what reminded me of my least favorite season. For only $5, it warmed me enough to be worth the price. 

When I was thrifting with a friend, misplaced alongside thin athletic pullovers was a faux fur jacket. My friend joked that it reminded her of Cruella DeVil, convincing me to wear it with the hood up and pretend to be some sort of fantasy villain. With it on, it fell to around my knees and heavily weighed along my shoulders. I was almost put off by the trademark Goodwill scent that I couldn’t get out of a fur jacket and the fact it was so thick, but I liked the statement of the black and dark brown fur that reminisced of a black bear. Knowing I would never wear it to school, therefore eliminating the majority of my year, I wasted $17 dollars on a statement jacket I could maybe wear to a day trip to Chicago.

I have a light brown trench coat. The first time I wore it, my friend made a joke about how I looked like a detective from a children’s show, that all I need is a hat that shadows over my eyes and a pipe--then I could go stand in an alleyway and accept bribes for information. Besides that, I like the style of the jacket. It’s strangely professional but not overbearingly so; it's so normal, in the way that people are over-perceived in TV shows, that it is a little out of place. 

With the switch from the fur coat to the fleece, I've found fun in the way I can change how I'm perceived in an instant. I think I’ll enjoy winters in the future. I’ll let myself get excited about the new jackets I can layer onto myself, absorbing the persona of the material.