I saw my first duffle coat of the season this morning. The chap was walking with the slight swagger that duffle wearing engenders – I’m geeky and I’m proud, it seems to say. His coat was of that perfect teddy-bear-brown hue and looked soft and cosy.
I love duffles. While watching the classic movie ‘the third man’ I felt my attention wax and wane despite the artistry, tension and zither music. I realised I was waiting, breathlessly, for the next scene involving the terribly British Trevor Howard and his rakish duffle coat. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted one until then.
I was a poor, neglected child and never had a duffle in all my life. Until last year.
It was then I purchased the soft, warm, caramel coloured wonder which is my very own duffle coat. It was a bit of a campaign, involving several days and the help and input of a number of friends, but eventually we found my perfect coat:
- The proper size
- Pure wool
- Not too expensive
- And just the right colour to suit my hair
The night it arrived the weather was particularly blustery and autumnal. I immediately put on the new coat and proceeded to promenade up and down my street, toasty warm and duffling for all I was worth.
Although I was happy to see that chap this morning my own coat will remain in the cupboard for a few weeks more. It’s not cold enough yet. If i wear it now, when winter comes I’ll ‘no feel the benefit’ as we say in Scotland.