Christmas 1988. I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was 16-years-old and all I wanted was a leather jacket. Something similar to what Indiana Jones would wear, but I didn't really care for the leather jackets that were made to look old. I wanted a leather jacket that I could make old myself.
When I opened the gift that Christmas morning and saw the dark brown jacket, I was thrilled. It was cool enough to be in the same category with "The Fonz", yet it was nice enough that I could actually wear it when I dressed up. (As an added bonus, I received a pair of snakeskin boots. It's impossible to look uncool in snakeskins. Well, I guess if you wear them with shorts, but that goes for any boot.)
I loved the smell of that jacket. I loved how I looked in it. I wore that jacket every single day. I wore that jacket ALL day. (My dad even wondered if I slept in it.) The only time I was not wearing my jacket was when I would let my girlfriend wear it. She would then return it to me and it would smell like Chanel No. 5. I would find a group of smokers and walk through the secondhand smoke to make it return to a "man smell" when this would happen. (It's not that I don't like Chanel No. 5, I just didn't want to smell like that.)
I was bummed out when I couldn't wear it any longer. My body just became too big for it. Believe me, I tried to hold out as long as I could, but every time I put the jacket on, I felt like singing, "Fat guy in a little coat."
I put the jacket in the back of my closet as part of my seemingly endless collection of "skinny clothes" that I would return to when I lost weight at some future date.
Most of those clothes have now been given away, but throughout different moves, I managed somehow to convince my wife that this jacket can't be given away. I will wear it one day.
A few weeks ago my wife asked me to take some coats that the kids have outgrown out to the shed/storage area. While I was there, I saw my leather jacket hanging there in the portable closet. I pulled it out, rubbed my hand on the smooth leather, and then held it up to my nose to take a deep whiff of it. Under the musty smell of storage, the leather smell that I loved all those years ago was still there. Immediately I was taken back to my high school years. For a split second, I wasn't a 40-year-old father of five. I was a cool 16-year-old, getting ready to go to a concert with my buddies. (In fact, I'm fairly certain I could hear Def Leppard playing in the distance when I held the jacket.)
After my mini-flashback, I brought the jacket into the house. "Are you finally giving that away?" my wife asked, almost a little too cheerfully. "No," I said. "I am putting it where I can see it because I am going to get back into it."
I now have a new goal to reach. I have a long way to go, but I am going to wear that jacket again.
When I opened the gift that Christmas morning and saw the dark brown jacket, I was thrilled. It was cool enough to be in the same category with "The Fonz", yet it was nice enough that I could actually wear it when I dressed up. (As an added bonus, I received a pair of snakeskin boots. It's impossible to look uncool in snakeskins. Well, I guess if you wear them with shorts, but that goes for any boot.)
I loved the smell of that jacket. I loved how I looked in it. I wore that jacket every single day. I wore that jacket ALL day. (My dad even wondered if I slept in it.) The only time I was not wearing my jacket was when I would let my girlfriend wear it. She would then return it to me and it would smell like Chanel No. 5. I would find a group of smokers and walk through the secondhand smoke to make it return to a "man smell" when this would happen. (It's not that I don't like Chanel No. 5, I just didn't want to smell like that.)
I was bummed out when I couldn't wear it any longer. My body just became too big for it. Believe me, I tried to hold out as long as I could, but every time I put the jacket on, I felt like singing, "Fat guy in a little coat."
I put the jacket in the back of my closet as part of my seemingly endless collection of "skinny clothes" that I would return to when I lost weight at some future date.
Most of those clothes have now been given away, but throughout different moves, I managed somehow to convince my wife that this jacket can't be given away. I will wear it one day.
A few weeks ago my wife asked me to take some coats that the kids have outgrown out to the shed/storage area. While I was there, I saw my leather jacket hanging there in the portable closet. I pulled it out, rubbed my hand on the smooth leather, and then held it up to my nose to take a deep whiff of it. Under the musty smell of storage, the leather smell that I loved all those years ago was still there. Immediately I was taken back to my high school years. For a split second, I wasn't a 40-year-old father of five. I was a cool 16-year-old, getting ready to go to a concert with my buddies. (In fact, I'm fairly certain I could hear Def Leppard playing in the distance when I held the jacket.)
After my mini-flashback, I brought the jacket into the house. "Are you finally giving that away?" my wife asked, almost a little too cheerfully. "No," I said. "I am putting it where I can see it because I am going to get back into it."
I now have a new goal to reach. I have a long way to go, but I am going to wear that jacket again.
Do it man!!!! It is'nt easy but sure worth it.
ReplyDeleteHey Bro! I hear ya! Last summer at the Taylor/Schouten picnic we got the cousin picture and I was surprised at my girth!!! Took me a bit, but man do I feel better now!
ReplyDeleteI've seen you do it before! Go, fight, kill! I with ya!
Son, I am so proud of you for taking the jacket out of storage!!! I know you can do it, and you will be wearing the jacket sooner than you think!!! We all have storage closets, but I have a lot, so I will have to decide which one to pick! I love you son! GO-Go Eric!!!!! ♥♥
ReplyDelete