If I wear a black leather jacket, my kids start chirping me. Actually, I just wanted to try to use that word in a sentence. Recently, it was described to me thusly: To chirp is to razz, but maybe slightly more critical than simply razzing.
Well, there's nothing like a preteen to smack you back into your place. Either they think I'm too old or too uncool or likely a Costco-sized helping of both to wear the symbol of James Dean's eternal rebellious youth. After all, what have I got left to rebel against? What, am I gonna send myself to juvvie (as my too-cool-for-elementary-school nephew says) if I don't finish my spinach?
The leather jacket is perhaps the most powerful gun in the fashion arsenal and a Gucci leather jacket is more so. I have a friend who bought a $5,700 Gucci leather jacket the day he left his wife. Oh man, the sharks in those Bloor Street gold-card vortices can spot fresh meat. Now, this friend lo these five or so years on in single life has got plenty of great use out of his middle-aged breakdown splurge. But still, I look at him as though he's wearing a car on his back or two months of mortgage payments.
What catches my lust in these jackets is the colour. This year, I have been crazy for grey leather - boots, coats, belts, shoes, purses. My head spins around whenever I see good grey leather on the street. So it stands to reason that this simple leather-like bomber from H&M ($69 through www.hm.com) will make me just as happy. And if I tell the kids that we have $5,700 more toward a new car, well, maybe they will lighten up on the chirping.