I love the look of a fitted white winter coat.
When worn correctly, there are very few missteps capable of overshadowing its sophistication.
Eating an 8-inch Quizno's Ultimate Italian with your mouth open at the intersection of ConnAve and M is one such misstep.
Enduring hunger pangs while walking back to the office is something I grapple with on a near daily basis. I know how she felt, because standing there close enough to smell her salami and jalapeno scented exhales, I also felt it. All of us sharing that 4x4 foot space, gripping our ABP, Cosi, and Subway bags felt it. How badly I, too, wanted to dig out my cup of vegetarian chili, my warm piece of peasant bread, my Cherry Coke Zero 20 oz. and start a picnic right there in front of the old American Express office.
But of course, I didn't. And I was wearing a black coat.
Take away the sheer disregard this woman had for following generally-accepted social mores, what I found absolutely beyond reproach was her willingness to risk soiling her stunning ivory wool military-style trench with any one of four meats, three cheeses, a bounty of runny vegetables and from what I could see, at least two oil-based condiments.
Take away the sheer disregard this woman had for following generally-accepted social mores, what I found absolutely beyond reproach was her willingness to risk soiling her stunning ivory wool military-style trench with any one of four meats, three cheeses, a bounty of runny vegetables and from what I could see, at least two oil-based condiments.
Wearing white anything successfully (i.e. stain-free) has three primary requirements: fine motor skills, a watchful eye for others' lack thereof, and an acceptance that you can't sit on just any surface. A white coat, not only because of its constant interaction with the elements but also because it serves as your first impression piece, deserves a particularly heightened adherence to these rules.
I admit, standing there on the corner, my stomach grumbling at the sight of her gluttony, I secretly hoped she'd dribble or drop a mouthful down the textured front of her beautiful piece of outerwear. But it was only because I wanted her to learn her lesson sooner rather than later - on a corner with strangers as opposed to Valentine's Day dinner at Ceiba - that wearing winter white is a privilege, not a right.
5 comments:
can I just reiterate how scared I am you're judging me in your head every single time we hang out?
don't even tell me otherwise, because I know you're lying...
which, ironically, is why I love you so dearly.
kiss to you!
Sweetie, I could never judge you. You're the only one I know who's even better than I am at eyeliner application (L - you're up there, too!).
And I mean that.
And you know how hard it is for me to give credit even when credit is due in the area of makeup application.
kiss back at you!
you should've "accidentally" bumped into her mid-chew.
to "help" her, of course :-)
I cannot wear winter white.
In fact, save for my crisp white button down oxfords (with my shout wipes in hand), I fear white in all seasons.
Teach me, Johanna.
They can't help with everything, but have you tried keeping 1 of those Tide instant stain remover pens in your coat pocket for emergencies? I've got half a dozen and try to keep one in every suit I own.
N-Y-i-E
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