The Magical Puff Coat

It's puffy coat season again in the good old Northeast.  Sadly, my bargain (Daffy's) Nicole Miller puff coat is just as temperamental this winter as it was last.  Do you perchance own a down-filled coat, Dear Reader?  If so, then surely you'll appreciate the woe I speak of.

I've recently come to the realization that the effectiveness of my puffy coat is directly related to the universe.  As in, she only zips when she feels like it.  Or perhaps only when she feels I truly deserve it.  Indeed, this coat is a mystical force to be reckoned with.   

Not to say she doesn't have her obliging, agreeable days.  On the contrary, she's been zipping up without complaint quite regularly as of late.  Of course, I've had to gingerly step in and out of the coat, cautious not to ever unzip her completely.  Incidentally, have you ever seen a grown woman step into or out of her coat in public?  In a restaurant, at work, in a store?  Don't laugh, it could very well happen to you.  (Also, it could possibly be me.)

The truth is, I don't dare unzip that mess once I've gotten it to zip.  Most days I'm just grateful Old Puffy has decided to behave.  I'm not always so fortunate, of course.  It seems at times my impudent behavior incites the wrath of The Puffy Coat.

Take the other morning, for example.  I'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed and was running late.  Annoyed, I stepped into The Puff and hastily pulled up the zipper, which promptly became stuck.  Apparently Puffy doesn't appreciate being roughhoused.  So this was how it was going to be, eh? 

The worst part was, not only would Puffy not zip up, she refused to unzip as well.   Fantastic!

Since I was already running late, I did what any reasonable, sensible woman would do:  I walked in the freezing cold with my coat zipped up to my knees.  I believe New York 1 reported the temperature was 14 degrees that morning, before the wind chill, of course.

People looked at me funny.  And who could blame them?  I mean, on a good day New Yorkers make staring blankly an art form, but in their defense, I did look weird. 

By the time I got to the subway I'd had it.  I plopped down my bag, wriggled out of my coat (still having to step out of the damn thing, naturally) and tried to ignore the fact that people were watching me intently.  The crackhead in the sage green puff.

I worked that zipper.  I worked that zipper till my eyes watered.  At last, mercifully, the zipper yielded and vengeance was mine.  Ha!

Later, just before lunch, I approached the coat with an attitude both humble and hopeful.  Would Puffy zipper?  Would she perhaps take pity on me, on that frigid afternoon?  I held my breath.  She zipped.  By God, she zipped.

Thank you, oh wise, enchanted puffy coat, for teaching me the ways of the universe.  Namely, to be gentle and grateful with everything surrounding me, even if the object in question is inanimate.  (Is she, though?)

Until my new J Crew button-up coat arrives in the mail, I will do my best to be more accommodating.   (Thank God I paid the extra seven bucks for three day shipping.)

xoxo

Comments

[Ma]

Your coat just might show up at the Smithsonian next to Seinfeld's puffy shirt!

[Weinerdog]

Do you remember my black coat w/ the fluffy collar?

Well, It's a Puffy too and loves to stick around my neck area, the effect makes me look like one of those poor dogs that has to wear one of those spaceship things around their neck.

I feel your pain!

[The Odd Broad]

I think I'm gonna stick to buttons for a while...

:)