Vintage coat

I know everyone thinks they have the best friends in the world but unless we happen to share the same friends, I’m afraid that you might be wrong. I’m constantly presented with evidence that my friends are the best friends (although I will concede that it’s possible I haven’t met all the friends I’ll ever have yet).

The latest piece of evidence was presented last week. A friend I share an office with had come across a vintage sheepskin coat that had at some point belonged to his mother. He insisted that it held no sentimental value for him and that it was only taking up space and collecting dust.


Since he couldn’t be bothered to put it on eBay or gumtree, one day when I walked into the office he looked me up and down, decided it would fit me and asked if I would have any use for it. Cue much, “Are you really, really sure? You won’t miss it? You really don’t want to sell it? Are you sure you’re sure?” -from yours truly.

Having convinced me that his options were to put it in the bin or to give it away, and that he’d much rather it go to someone who would wear it, I accepted. I am, like, so freaking smug about this coat. It’s soooo warm. It’s like wearing a giant blanket. And yeah, I get the ethical iffyness of even sheepskin coats but this is second hand – if the coat already exists I’d much rather it continue to be used than it get scrapped.


Also, this guy is a bit of a smoker and since the coat has been in his home for a while, there’s a slight lingering scent of old smoke. Combine that with the fact that I like perfume that’s technically outside my budget range, and the fact that it’s a vintage sheepskin coat, and I now look and smell like a rock star. I’m basically Joan Jett right now. That’s what’s happened here. At least in my head.

Originally posted here:


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