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“So how do you know Yuri?”
“Yuri is my good friend. We knew each other from the old times in high school. He was not very good at sports!” Olaf chortled.
“No, I don’t imagine he would be. He is much too refined for that.”
“Oh, yes — refined.” Olaf bunched up the thigh of his pant leg in his sweaty palm. This was not going well.
“Yuri has always been very refined. Too refined, maybe!” He chortled again. The waiter was startled by the boom of Olaf’s laugh.
“And what is it you do now, again? Yuri said you owned a business?”
“Yes, yes. I am a contractor. I build everything that needs to be built. I work with my hands and build, build, build. And you?”
“I work at the community center. I don’t do much that interesting there.”
“You must do something interesting, of course.”
“I enjoy theater. I enjoy balls and fine food. I work for the Opera. I help them extensively. And, of course when I find time, I travel. It has been years since I was last on a good trip, but the desire is still there.”
“Oh, yes. Opera. You are beautiful enough to be in an opera, I think,” ventured Olaf.
Dasha shifted in her seat and tried to conceal a grimace. The sequins of her jacket were too good for an uncouth man like this, and the sounds they made were far more interesting than anything this Olaf had yet managed to mutter…
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This coat has no past but does have an illustrious future. It will probably be used by its future owner for days in which she will want to garner attention for her sense of style, quirkiness, and unfettered iconoclasm. Art openings, ladies’ nights out, and dinners at trendy establishments (where the size of your servings is inversely proportional to the prices in the menu) will be filled with gawkers too smitten with this coat to do anything but think about how much they envy the future owner. Praise and adulation may even become tiresome, but the coat will remain a glorious monument to the future owner’s visionary view of life.
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James held the door open for his wife and her friend, Richard, and Richard’s wife, Rosemary. James’ wife was a nice enough woman, pretty and proper and endowed with the social graces only a lifetime of training could instill in you, and she made a good wife and had made a good wife for years. Richard was almost a mirror of her, so it was no mystery why they had gotten along so well when they had gone to Wellesley. Rosemary, though, she was different. She had escaped the rigid sculpting of the moneyed life, but she knew how to play by the rules when it was necessary. She could even conceal her disdain for the rules when the situation called for it.
As they removed their coats at the coat check, Richard took James’ wife’s coat, leaving James to show his chivalrousness to Rosemary. Rosemary turned her back to him but kept her eyes and face turned over her shoulder to hold him in an enveloping gaze as he removed her brown faux-fur coat. She slipped gracefully out of her coat and placed her hand on his arm. “Thank you, James,” she said, not breaking the bridge spanning the distance between their eyes. James felt fear and excitement pulse from his wrists through his toes. Richard and James’ wife were already moving toward the table reserved for their foursome and had completely missed the moment in which James’ and Rosemary’s long-standing betrayal could have been so flippantly betrayed.
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“I’m headed out!”
“Don’t forget your coat!”
Kelly pulled her fringed suede jacket and pulled on her hunting moccasins. The fringe sounded like drops of rain on hot shale and provided comforting company on her daily berry-gathering expeditions. She buttoned up and left the yurt for the cool embrace of the forest.
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Heather pulled the collars of her black faux-fur coat up against her neck. Winter was coming, and there was no telling how cold it was going to get. She wondered if real fur would have been warmer, but she could hardly bring herself to eat a piece of fried chicken, let alone don a dead animal’s skin. The very idea chilled her spine, and that was clearly counterproductive in the dead of winter.
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“I brought you something, Sammy.” Dad pulled a brown grocery store bag with its top rolled down from his suitcase which lay splayed open on the living room floor. “I think you’re gonna like it.”
Sammy was just happy to see Dad home again, safe and sound. His trip to Washington D.C. — wherever that was — had taken him away for a whole week. She had cried with reckless abandon at the bus station, but Mom kept telling her it would be okay, and that he would be back soon. Imagine her excitement when he really did come back!
Dad unrolled the top of the bag and held its open mouth out for Sammy to peer in. “I know the wrapping isn’t much, but I think you’ll like what’s inside…”
Sammy leaped off the floor as her attention fell into the bag. It was black and just peeking off the top was a golden space shuttle — a space shuttle! Her hands flew into the bag, and when they came out, they held a beautiful black nylon bomber jacket with golden zippers and a golden space shuttle on the lapel.
“Thanks, Daddy!” squealed Sammy. “Thanks!” She flung her arms around Dad’s neck and squeezed.
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Kim spat a pink wad of bubble tape into the dry starchy hedges of Ike’s Club and put her cigarette out against the brick facade. It was Friday night again, and there were only so many things to do in this craptastic little podunk. Ike’s was the only game in town if you wanted to feel just the edges of the fading glow of glamor from the city, but it was something. It was a craptastic something but it was still something. She unclasped the front of her denim jacket and forced the door open with her knee.
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Tori peered over the shoulder of her padded leather jacket as she pretended to need something in her locker. Chris was eleven lockers down, just far enough away that she could steal a glance like this every morning while her friends were sneaking smokes out in the yard. Chris was different. He glowed. Not like a god or some mythical creature but like someone who had figured out how life works and just wasn’t bothered by it anymore. She’d been infatuated with him ever since they’d been in P.E. together in sixth grade and he’d bothered to pass her a soccer ball, but they didn’t run in the same circles. His friendly but detached demeanor kept him out of cleanly-defined cliques. He was just out there on his own, and that meant it’d impossible to date him without suffering an eternity of tongue-lashings from the rest of the crew…
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“Hank, where’d this come from?”
“What?” replied Hank from the bed.
“This cute little tux jacket.” Linda emerged from the closet holding the jacket in question by its scruff. “It’s so cute! It’s so tiny!”
“Oh, yeah. That.”
“Are you molesting little boys?”
“No. I wore it to some uncle’s wedding or funeral or something. Like sixteen years ago.”
“So it won’t fit you anymore, right?”
“Hell no. I could probably use it as underwear.” He rolled onto his side to face her and grinned.
Linda slipped her arms into the tuxedo jacket and struck a 007 pose. “Shaken, not stirred.” She giggled. “It’s snug, but I think I look striking in it, no?”
“What do I know?” Hank slumped onto his back and gazed at the ceiling.
“You’re useless, Hank.” Linda leaned over the edge of the bed and peered down at Hank’s lifeless body. “If you’re not careful, I may end up finding myself a more intriguing man who matches my sartorial sensibilities…”
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Spring break was a funny time around Grandma’s house. Suze always had to come over from Baltimore to look after Grandma’s four-bedroom suburban palace while Grandma disappeared for a week or more (depending on the vicissitudes of the stock market and the dividends paid out on her mutual funds) to bask in the sunshine of youth and booze on the banks of Lake Havasu. Suze was pretty sure that Grandma wasn’t really the demographic that MTV was looking for in its panning helicopter shots, but somehow, every year, Suze let herself be guilted into making the four-hour flight to spend a week or so in the suburban desert in the middle of Retirement America so that Grandma could rent herself a boat and become an old woman in a sea of drunk 20-somethings. It was a grotesque thought — Grandma with all those lithe bodies — but Suze knew that Grandma was a desperate woman who thought that acting young might actually keep her that way. It was just that these long stretches in Retirement America were getting harder on Suze’s mind than ever before, and she needed a way to get Grandma to stop cajoling her into this.
That was when a black, sequined jacket hanging on the back of a dining room chair caught her eye; Suze recognized an opportunity to lose Grandma’s trust and free herself from this gated-community prison for the rest of her life. If Grandma’s jacket disappeared, there would be only one person to blame and never invite back to Arizona.
Jenny Lincoln: vtg navy tiny skinny fit gold buttoned blazer jacket xs
Jenny Lincoln was sipping lemonade on the porch when little Teddy Colton came ambling down the sidewalk with a clankety red wagon and an innocent grin as wide as old Chappy’s barn. Teddy waved.
“Hi, Teddy!” said Jenny. She was a good four years older than Teddy, and that meant she was a whole lot smarter than that little brat. His family had money from somewhere — Jenny’s dad said it was banking or something — and you could tell by the way the air around Teddy always glowed. He was wearing a well-tailored navy blue blazer with gold buttons, and his wagon was redder than anything she’d ever seen. Though she was older than Teddy, Jenny wasn’t much bigger than him, and she thought that his blazer would even fit her. The buttons of his single-vented blazer glinted in the sun like nuggets of treasure.
Jenny Lincoln decided at that moment that she would look even better in that little boy’s blazer, and she was going to take it from him if it was the last thing she ever did.
Measurements and Details:
bust (armpit to armpit) – 16.5 in. waist – 15.5 in.hips – 16 in.
length – 23 in.
maker – nordstroms
other – this is a boy’s blazer but fits an xs perfectly!
*meaurements taken while flat and buttoned up.
