I admit it. I have a weakness for leather jackets. I have restraint, only possessing two of them. Yet every time I enter a department store or pass a leather shop, I gravitate toward the men’s leather jacket area and test my resolve.
Many years ago, attending a conference in Tampa, I happened to enter the shopping area. I came across this specialty store which featured attractive leather jackets in its window. Per usual, I entered, determined to merely look in an exercise of pure torture. Displayed were the usual styles, mostly black suave shiny or more subdued matted color ones. The different colors though were all homogeneous within the jacket as was typical of the modern ones. They were designed for youthful hipness, pseudo motorcycle cool, which has its allure. However, over in the corner, isolated from the rest, was this brown colored one, with blemishes and faded discolorations and markings that emanated a weathered and worn look. It exuded a distinct oldness, with a story and character in an intriguing way.
Was it iconoclastic to the modern fashions of the day? Perhaps, but it was also pricier. I engaged the salesman as to the origins of the leather as well as what made it more costly. His response was very fascinating: the jacket was unique, exuding markings that reflected a lifetime. It’s a natural look. You won’t find another like it, it would be singular to its owner in a sea of conformity. I mused “ are you saying that one pays extra for an old look?” “Yes, exactly” he responded.
The salesman was pretty good as I bought it. In the ensuing conversation, attuning to my Bronx accent, he queried what brought me to Tampa. “Here at a conference on Elder care and changing or restoring the aging experience” was my laconic response. “Oh, that’s interesting” he replied as he rung up the register. I didn’t expect, nor did I induce, any form of a connection to what had transpired, and none was forthcoming. Was that a remote message or merely a weird “coincidence? I mean people, even in the age-ing movement, buy products to make them appear younger; to obscure their hard earned markings of growing old in a youth adorning culture. Perhaps that is the irony of it all. I did walk away with that “old” leather jacket, as well as a reminder that the world reveals itself in mysterious ways.
Featured Image Courtesy of the Moody Blues Album Every Good Boy Deserves Favour
So much for the “resolve” Jeff ! One of my favorite jackets, which I rarely wear, due its age and fragility is a dark gray leather jacket with a sweater lining and matching cuffs. It belonged to my Dad’s brother, Uncle Max, and after his death, ended up in my Dad’s possession (I never saw him wear it!). Not long after, my Dad died and I couldn’t resist claiming that jacket. It’s got to be 60-70 years old and it’s the softest leather I’ve ever felt. They owned a bowling alley together in the Bronx and the jacket feels like it’s been softened by thousands of bowling balls rolled over it. Makes me want to hit the lanes today! Thanks for your sharing.
I must confess Jeff-my 3 decades old leather motorcycle jacket is so heavy I can hardly move in it….
But it looks soooo much cooler than the Kevlar yellow one!, And they sure have different stories.
A Very Interesting Reflection, Jeff.
Years ago, I bought my brother a Birthday card that said “When We’re Young, We Want to be Older. When We are Older, We Want to be Younger. Everything’s All f—ed Up. Happy Birthday, Anyway!’
And for a little extra emphasis, I am currently in the market for a Suede or Deerskin Leather Jacket with just-the-right Fringe…. (swoon…)