I have hit the vintage clothing store jackpot: the perfect jacket, I’m sure of it.
Do I have other jackets? Of course. But I have changed and grown as a person since last fall, and this jacket really drives that point home. This jacket will tell the world that a new jacket means a new me, even though it is, in fact, an old jacket. In this jacket I will be my true self.
Yes, this jacket is going to change everything.
That said, the price of this jacket equates to almost half my rent – which is also wildly outside of my financial means. I’m terrible with money. To purchase this jacket would only be a perpetuation of the decision-making that will have me working well into my 70s. At some point I’m going to have to come to terms with my wanton buying behavior, but given the cozy yet snug confines of this jacket, I just don’t know if today is that day.
I hope to have children and grandchildren in my twilight years. Do I want to be able to spend time with them at the snap of a finger, happily retired, or have my granddaughter think, “Wow, granddad may be slammed with work right now, but he sure has a great sense of style?” Both are important to me.
Still, I worry, what will the job market look like by the year 2068? Will there even be a place for me, someone who has largely built a career on being a “people person” with hard-to-quantify ROI? By then, jobs will likely be determined by algorithms, my superiors machine-learning AI robots with no appreciation for soft skills like polite email writing.
On the other hand, with advances in modern science, I could retire at 80 and still have twenty years of life free to vacation at the beach and almost pay off my mortgage.
Speaking of vacation, this jacket is made for adventures! Calling vacations “adventures” is definitely something that new me loves. I can see myself sipping wine in Paris or summiting a hiking trail outside of Bangor, Maine: both equally appropriate for donning this durable, comfortable jacket. Sure, with the money I spend on it I won’t even be able to afford a subway pass for this month but give it a couple years and I can scrap and save for a plane ticket, barring any luggage fees. I’m sure this jacket will fit in my carry-on. Better yet, I’ll just wear it onto the plane!
There I’ll be, on the bustling streets of Tokyo, where a passerby will spot the chic yet everyman design of my jacket and think, “I bet I could find that jacket somewhere” – but they will not. This is not the jacket for them, this is the jacket for me, despite the fact that it was once the jacket of someone else.
In that moment, my phone will buzz and I will remove it from one of the tactfully-placed interior pockets of my jacket. A smile will beam across my face as I read the inside joke from Sherri, my intelligent, beautiful new girlfriend. I will meet Sherri at a velvet-roped speakeasy where of course she will compliment me on my jacket. This jacket will in fact be the reason why I will someday have children and grandchildren in my later years, all of whom I will have a faltering relationship with because I have to complete the data matrix for 1World Logistics and my boss AR-78 is a real prick about it.
So should I buy a jacket at this vintage store or retire before I turn 80? Well, as they say, you only live once.
And I think this jacket would make for the perfect burial outfit.
