Although it has been several weeks since we returned from Argentina, I could not erase the brown leather jacket from my mind. Love is a virus -- that, we know -- but leather jacket love is a virus of epidemic proportions.Nike Air trainers began life as the Cheap nike air max back in 1987. You dream about the leather jacket, you see yourself in the leather jacket, you imagine how people will change their opinion of you when you walk in a room wearing the leather jacket.
A man with a leather jacket is a man with whom to be reckoned.
Mostly, I was just mad at my wife. She'd talked me out of a brown leather jacket in Argentina, saying if you were to buy one leather jacket, you must choose a black one.
I didn't want a black one. I'm not Robert De Niro, Denzel Washington or Marlon Brando, with his hands on the handlebars and a hog between his legs.
I wanted the chocolate brown leather jacket that I slipped on at Cardon, the store that sold Gaucho, or cowboy-inspired clothing. It was made with lamb's skin, which probably condemns me to some PETA-sanctioned brand of hell when I die, but I'll take 12-month summers for soft brown leather.
I wanted the jacket but I left it in Argentina because I am married, am mindful of the compromises that it entails, and because I could have used shoring up when it came to the brown vs. black leather jacket discussion.
"Shoring up" that I received from my friend Molly Sabat, who emailed me after we returned saying that she liked brown leather jackets. More shore from Tehachapi's Ruby Jordan, who not only liked brown leather but had been kicking herself, too, when she hadn't pulled the trigger on a leather jacket she'd seen a few years ago in Istanbul. She subsequently returned to the Greek Islands and, on a day trip to Turkey, bought the jacket of her dreams.
That didn't even include two of my friends who sported brown leather jackets. That did it.
A few days after I returned, I clicked on the Cardon website, strolled through their fall collection, didn't see the jacket but sent the company an email detailing my situation. I had the sense that I wasn't the first to have leather jacket regret.
No response. Not that day. Not the next day. Not the day after.
I chalked it up to my inability to write in Spanish and perhaps to the truism that there are some things that are not meant to be, and the brown leather jacket -- so soft it felt like second skin -- may have been one of them.
The day after we returned, the person to whom I am married -- the dream killer -- went to work. One of the men she worked with told her that he loved his brown leather jacket and that men were particular about brown and black leather in a way that women might not be.
That did it. Sue emailed our friend and tour guide, Juan, who who lived in Bakersfield, but who was still in Argentina. She explained the situation. He had been with me at Cardon and knew the jacket.
A week later, Sue asked me to meet her at the house at 3 p.m. to sign our son Herbie's birthday card (can he really be 27?). I arrived early, signed the card and left a note saying I'd been there. Done.
She called a few minutes later and almost ordered me home. Not only was she a brown leather coat dream killer, but she was bossy.
I returned home. She gave me a large bag with a box inside. Inside the box was the brown leather jacket from Cardon. I was stunned. Have I told you how great my wife is lately?
What a woman. What a present. What a brown leather jacket.
A man with a leather jacket is a man with whom to be reckoned.
Mostly, I was just mad at my wife. She'd talked me out of a brown leather jacket in Argentina, saying if you were to buy one leather jacket, you must choose a black one.
I didn't want a black one. I'm not Robert De Niro, Denzel Washington or Marlon Brando, with his hands on the handlebars and a hog between his legs.
I wanted the chocolate brown leather jacket that I slipped on at Cardon, the store that sold Gaucho, or cowboy-inspired clothing. It was made with lamb's skin, which probably condemns me to some PETA-sanctioned brand of hell when I die, but I'll take 12-month summers for soft brown leather.
I wanted the jacket but I left it in Argentina because I am married, am mindful of the compromises that it entails, and because I could have used shoring up when it came to the brown vs. black leather jacket discussion.
"Shoring up" that I received from my friend Molly Sabat, who emailed me after we returned saying that she liked brown leather jackets. More shore from Tehachapi's Ruby Jordan, who not only liked brown leather but had been kicking herself, too, when she hadn't pulled the trigger on a leather jacket she'd seen a few years ago in Istanbul. She subsequently returned to the Greek Islands and, on a day trip to Turkey, bought the jacket of her dreams.
That didn't even include two of my friends who sported brown leather jackets. That did it.
A few days after I returned, I clicked on the Cardon website, strolled through their fall collection, didn't see the jacket but sent the company an email detailing my situation. I had the sense that I wasn't the first to have leather jacket regret.
No response. Not that day. Not the next day. Not the day after.
I chalked it up to my inability to write in Spanish and perhaps to the truism that there are some things that are not meant to be, and the brown leather jacket -- so soft it felt like second skin -- may have been one of them.
The day after we returned, the person to whom I am married -- the dream killer -- went to work. One of the men she worked with told her that he loved his brown leather jacket and that men were particular about brown and black leather in a way that women might not be.
That did it. Sue emailed our friend and tour guide, Juan, who who lived in Bakersfield, but who was still in Argentina. She explained the situation. He had been with me at Cardon and knew the jacket.
A week later, Sue asked me to meet her at the house at 3 p.m. to sign our son Herbie's birthday card (can he really be 27?). I arrived early, signed the card and left a note saying I'd been there. Done.
She called a few minutes later and almost ordered me home. Not only was she a brown leather coat dream killer, but she was bossy.
I returned home. She gave me a large bag with a box inside. Inside the box was the brown leather jacket from Cardon. I was stunned. Have I told you how great my wife is lately?
What a woman. What a present. What a brown leather jacket.
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