Notes on coats

Around the time that temperatures here in good ol' NYC dropped into the sub-freezing zone, I decided to take stock of my winter outerwear. Because, being as walking is the preferred method of transportation in our fair metropolis, a girl simply must have a varied supply of attractive-yet-cozy coats in which to strut the city streets. A military-style canvas number for nights out on the lower east side, a slinky cashmere overcoat for walking down avenues Park, Madison and Lex, something that's the perfect combination of functional and fun for those daily commutes to work... the necessities are endless!

I'm at least marginally fashion-conscious, so I was sure that I'd find myself well-positioned to survive the winter in style.

Instead, it turns out that my cold weather-wear is like a case study in multiple personality disorder, and all of the personalities have serious issues.

Take this, for instance.

Is that Kat?
No-o-o-o-o...

... it's Nadia Bechyakakoff.

A spy for the Soviet Republic and one-time mistress of Leonid Brezhnev, Nadia has been at loose ends since the Cold War ended. Most of her time is spent shut indoors, where she reads George Orwell's 1984 obsessively and hides cans of soup in her pants.

In spite of a fervent desire to throw herself under a train, she's usually so drunk by 10am that she can't figure out how to work the doorknob.





While Nadia lays about clutching her vodka, a shadowy figure creeps through the dark corners of apartment 3L.

It's...

... Mackenzie Jammywaffles, Girl Detective!

The game is afoot, sir! Last seen uncovering clues to the whereabouts of her roommate's dime bag in The Case of the Pilfered Pot, Miss Jammywaffles has turned her attention to the homefront, where mysterious strands of blonde hair are taking over every corner of the apartment.

Great scott, Watson!

What sinister force is at work to create this hairy situation?! (ahahaaa.) Will Miss Jammywaffles crack the case?

Aha! The culprit was under our noses the whole time.

(Obligatory cute dog shot.)

And then, of course.... ewww, what's that smell coming from the boudoir? It's like a combination of Dior Perfume, Arbor Mist and latex condoms...

Oh, it's Prostie von Muppethunter.

The illegitimate child of Heidi Fleiss and Charlton Heston, Prostie's loveless and tormented upbringing ultimately manifested itself in her impassioned hatred of all things Jim Henson. A lesser-known muppet met his end at the hands of our friend Prostie, giving his life to furnish the collar for this, er, magnificent coat.

Miss von Muppethunter now divides her time between stalking the stars of Sesame Street (especially that little fuck, Elmo) and ministering sexually to the octogenarian whom she married for his money.




I'm not sure why, where most people would have a trifecta of useful coats -- coats for Work, Going Out, and Keeping Warm -- I ended up with coats for Tolstoy Role-Playing, Solving Mysteries, and Whoring.

It's fine and all... but if I end up having to attend a funeral before spring, I am totally fucked.

***

Epilogue

Brad: Hey Kat? Kat, are you here? (opens bedroom door to find Kat, wearing pink coat, heels and a negligee, frozen in mid-pose atop the dresser)
Kat: AAAAGH! I thought you were at Earl's!
Brad: Yeah, I was, but I wanted to come home and hang out with you.
(pause)
Brad: What are you doing?
Kat: Uh... blogging?

***

Update for the girls who asked: Nadia's coat was purchased at an upstate New York flea market for $3. (Please don't hate me.)