Armholes In Jackets Are So 2000…

Screen Shot 2016-05-17 at 4.11.45 PMI’ve always been notoriously bad at putting coats on. I know, I know, what is wrong with me, right? What kind of idiot can’t put on a coat? Well … me. I cannot. And Jesus, it gets like 20 times worse when I’m drunk. 

It was all so much easier when I was little and my mom would hold my coat open for me, and I could just slip my arms in. “One arm at a time, honey.” 

Now when I’m moving a million miles a minute, my arm gets stuck in the lining or I realize one arm is inside out half way through putting my coat on, leading me to curse like a sailor and struggle like a dim wit T-rex caught in a net. What can I say, I’m the least sexiest human being whilst putting on a coat.

But turns out, arm holes are for suckers. Yeah. You heard it here first. You’re a complete square if you wear your coats like this … 

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It’s all about the chic drape over your shoulders, kids. How glamorous, right? Just like when you’re chilly and your man friend gives you his tuxedo jacket to drape over your shoulders (that’s a thing, right?) … well, now that’s how all jackets should be worn. Why? Because cool people said so. 

That fashion editor waiting for a cab, making imaginary phone calls. Kim Kardashian and all Kim Kardashian-like folk. Literally EVERYONE who is ANYONE is all about the drape (yes, that was double dipped in sarcasm). Why people are taking such a chic stand about not using armholes, well, I have no clue. Maybe they resemble a dim witted T-Rex, too, whilst putting on coats and said down with them … who knows.

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Now … like I said before, I move at a million miles per minute. Even when I try to take it down a notch, I’m hauling ass somewhere. So tell me, “cool people,” how does one keep a chicly draped coat over their shoulders whilst hauling ass on an average day? Hmm? The answer is they don’t.

::::Strutting, strutting, strutting … coat falls to the ground::: FUCK! :::picks coat up, drapes back over shoulders … struts, struts, struts … coat falls yet again and girl sets fire to coat, keeps strutting:::: 

And when the coat is chicly draped, how do you do anything? You literally would have to retrieve your cocktail from the bar with T-Rex arms. I mean, completely and utterly hilarious, but annoying as balls. All you can really do is just stand there and look super pissed off and important. Gross.

I get it, it’s romantic, it’s chic, it’s very “worldly” and can give you this imaginary power of feeling special. Drape a coat over your shoulders, throw on some red lipstick, dark shades, and you’re suddenly a big deal (see look, I did it in the above pic … don’t I look like an ass?). That man across the street really isn’t peeing on a building, he’s a secret paparazzi snapping pics of you. Riiiigggghhht.

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But for the girl on-the-go who doesn’t have a driver, or an assistant, or anyone to help her with anything and takes two trains to get to work (yep, I’m talking about myself … halla) … yeah no. I don’t have time to casually frolic or waltz down the street. I’m too busy plowing through slow walkers and giving dirty looks to morons who tell me to smile. And dammit when I want to reach for my cocktail, my coat will have to enjoy being on the ground, because ain’t nobody got time for T-rex arms.  

So unfortunately I will have to only do the drape in the privacy of my bedroom where I like to pretend I’m Kate Moss (wait … no I don’t … STOP LOOKING AT ME!), or when I get a boyfriend to drape his tux coat over my chilly shoulders. But until then I will continue to resemble a dim witted T-Rex whenever I put on a coat. Come and get it, boys.

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The Northface Clones

8073301_fpxI’ve never put a lot of emphasis on being warm. I was that asshole in college that would strut around the streets of the city in “going out” tops when it was 30 below out that consisted of an inch of fabric around my taas, and nothing more, leaving onlookers to scream things like, “put a coat on ya whore, it’s freezing!” (Hi mom).

The Northface Denali was the thing to have during my high school/college years. Every girl had at least the black one, and maybe three others in different colors. I had to have it. I swear the good people over at The Northface sewed in hypnotizing devices in each coat so every girl who passed one immediately needed it.

When you come out of The Northface Denali haze, you realize what a true fool you were. There is absolutely no allure to this coat. They aren’t chic. They aren’t fashion-forward. They aren’t timeless. It’s just an overpriced black fleece coat, or excuse me, some weird technologically advanced fabric they engineered to keep you somewhat warm. That’s. About. It. Riveting, right? So I came to and indulged in some proper coats … trenches, over-sized black wool coats, faux fur. The warmth factor of all are debatable.

But let’s roll back to last winter, when the polar vortex was bitch slapping us every single day. The ice cold beating must have made me lose my marbles, because once again, I asked around for the “warmest coat out there,” and all I kept hearing was the long Northface puffy coat in black. I resisted temptation as much as I could, until I opened a Christmas present and found my mother had pulled the trigger for me. I was secretly so pumped. I was always so envious of the stylish girls in their long puffy coats, strutting down the street with their over-the-knee boots, red lips, and slicked back hair (I told you, I have a very vivid imagination). But why?

Sure, this coat is warm as hell. And I’m thankful for having it, I really am. That was until I whipped it out for the first time last week, and on my way to work, I felt like I was in a weird episode of the Twilight Zone. Ever single girl I passed had the same coat on that I was wearing. I wish I were exaggerating. Northface clones were strutting the streets of Philly. And it didn’t stop there. Every day after I saw them. And quite frankly, it freaked me out.

Listen, I don’t need to be the most original, the most outlandish, the one to flip their hair and be all, “I had that first,” I really don’t. In fact, I loathe those people. But why, dear God why, does everyone drink the Northface kool aid and all have to indulge in the same coat habits and be walking around like a Northface army or something? It’s a little weird when you think about it.

I feel like I’m taking crazy pills. I once again I fell down the Northface rabbit hole, and you know what? Once again I’m starring at this Northface coat that I’m so blessed to have and find no allure to it. It isn’t sexy. It isn’t cute. It isn’t timeless. It’s just warm. Perhaps I’ve been reading too much about Parisian women as of late, but we do too much damn work styling ourselves to be covering up it with coats that look like the Michelin Man designed it.

Again, I’m thoroughly thankful for the coat I have. I just wish I didn’t feel like I was in an episode of the Twilight Zone when wearing it, like I’m apart of this army of Northface clones who capture non-Northface wearers, throw them in a cage, and make them drink the kool aid to be ONE OF US. ONE OF US. ONE OF US.

I told you, I have a very vivid imagination. 

The Makings Of A Timeless Coat

mcx-90-fashion-carrie-bradshaw-sex-in-city-lgnIt’s the first day of fall … hooray! Let’s all go apple picking and dip our entire bodies in pumpkin spice everything!

No. Just. No. Those articles detailing the things “white girls love about fall” make me want to punch pumpkins in their tiny carved faces.

But right now, I want to talk coats. Because this delicious chill in the air that made me sleep like a fricken baby last night is making me want to whip out all of my coats, throw them on the ground, and roll on top of them out of sheer joy and excitement (yes, I’m that much of a freak).

My favorite coat I own is legit seven years old. SEVEN. I got it when I was a sophomore in college at Burlington Coat Factory for a little over $200 for things like interviews and internships … and maybe the potential frat “mixer” that I never got invited to (whomp whomp). The only other coat I owned when I was in college was the North Face Denali. Oh come now, you know you had one, too. I had the black one … and yes, I rocked it with Ugg Boots. You can say I was the epitome of “cool” in the mid-00’s (by the way that is SO bazaar to say).

So why have I had this coat for seven years, and why will I still be wearing it this season? Because it is a little thing called timeless, my friends. It’s long, black, military-esque. Great hardware, great pockets. The lining is completely shot to shit and ripped to shreds, but honestly, who looks at the lining of a coat? Someone could have worn it 50 years ago and not looked out of place, and someone could have worn in 20 years ago and not looked out of place.

There are a few coats every woman should own that will remain in your closet, and your lives, forever. These coats are something you should spend money on, because hopefully seven years from now, you will still be rocking them.

1. Long, black, military wool coat

2. Trench

3. Faux-fur (you’re welcome PETA)

4. Faux leather (again, PETA, got your back)

5. One trendy coat (that you don’t spend as much money on and indulge in ONE a season)

The other coats out there … meh. I mean indulge if you must, but the five above are your simple building blocks to a get coat collection. Trust. You just need to look for the “timeless” signs. Ask yourself the following questions.

1. Would my great grandmother worn this coat back in the day?

2. Would my mother have worn this coat back in the day?

3. How will this coat age (think of fabric, hardware … take a close look at it)?

4. Do I have the means to care for it properly (dry cleaning, storage, etc.)?

5. Will my future self look back at this coat and cringe at its trendiness? Will your grand kids laugh at it?

Coats are the things that make the outfit statement in the winter when you are getting from A to B. Nobody will give a shit if you’re rocking all couture with some trendy monstrosity covering it. Invest wisely.

Behold: Coat Porn

I’m a woman obsessed with coats. I think I’ve secretly always adored them. It all started when I was in college watching Devil Wears Prada, or “D Wears P,” as I like to call it. Anne Hathaway’s character goes glam and struts the streets of New York with “Vogue” playing in the background (I mean don’t we all walk around singing “Vogue” to ourselves secretly? No? Just me? Coool … :::shifty eyes:::) Anyways, she rocks several fantastic looks with equally fantastic coats to match. At that point in time I was still in the elementary mindset that you only buy one coat per season and that is that. I say that because I used to battle with my mother every fall when it was time to buy a coat. I loathed everything. So deciding on one was enough for me. But years later as a college student, little did I know such a thing as a coat collection could exist!

And now … as a grown ass woman (it’s cool, I still feel like I’m 15, too don’t worry), I’ve been seduced even further by coats. Who was the saucy minx who wooed me, sang sweet fabric nothings into my ear until my heart fluttered, you ask? Who was the vixen who made me salivate for elegant warmth? Olivia. Mother effing. Pope.

She lets Fitz seduce her, I let her seduce me with her breathtakingly structured designer coats every episode of Scandal. Seriously ABC, I hope you are cool with airing coat porn on your channel, because that is what every episode of Scandal is. Every time Olivia storms into the White House or sneaks off to some secretive meeting while one of her clients sleeps soundly on her couch, I get hot for her coat. I’m not even afraid to admit it.

I was even once loathed white coats before Scandal. Number one I am a stain magnet, number two I take public transportation and God only know what kind of anonymous strangeness could end up on them and number three I just don’t think they are a good long-term investment. Because when I buy a nice coat, much like every coat Olivia wears, I buy it like I would a car. How many years will I have it? How many miles will I walk in it? Will it go with everything I wear? But now … all I’m sayin’ is … mama needs a white coat.

And since the air is starting to have an actual chill in it … I have this strong desire to acquire several amazing coats in different neutrals and tweeds strictly due to Olivia Pope on Scandal. My bank account doesn’t thank you.

So enjoy below as I would like to pay homage to all of the coats I lust after every week due to my Scandal addiction in hopes I can find them in a “look for less” capacity, because I think I can speak for a vast amount of Scandal addicts when I proudly say I can’t swing Tory Burch trenches and Burberry capped coats at this very given moment. Hence why this is coat porn.

Disclaimer: I would avoid viewing this if you are at work, as you may start drooling and or moaning at your desk. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Be still my heart.

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Oh dear God … the gloves. You. Are. Killing. Me. With. Those. Gloves.

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Mmmmm … strut your stuff, coat …

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Oh yeah … button it up … just a little more …

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Okay maybe don’t make that face …

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That’s it … that’s what mama likes …

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My God in heaven. You always know how to hit the spot, Burberry.

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