Welcome back to “So You Want To…” the series wherein I give you outfits and *~*lewks~*~ for things like: time of year, a random event, a vibe, an energy!
This month, we are diving into my personal favorite item of clothing: COATS! It’s mid-November, and where I am on the east coast, that means it is time to swan about dramatically in various kind of outerwear! Much like our fall column, I am aware that not everywhere on this glorious earth requires a jacket, but as a person who just visited Miami where it is famously warm, they really do be cranking that air conditioning! A jacket would not be amiss in such a climate!
And because it is not super thrilling to jabber about coats and say “this…is another coat I like” over and over, I have brought back the main characters! Mostly because I realized they were all left up in the air, and as the year winds down, why not make sure they are off to a romance approved happily ever after?
Trend notes: You simply cannot turn your (virtual) head without running into: teddy jackets, Sherpa coats, and just much plaid. Consider those the big outwear three for the season!
Widow with a Shocking Secret
There is a voice in your head from before. The person you used to be, who always knew when to leave, who always had a bag packed and tucked away in her closet. That version of you would have left a long time ago. Would have tucked the kids in the car during the middle of the night and vanished. You are weaker now, you think. But it’s hard to leave this place, where your kids have real friends, where the mailman fondly teases you about the amount of packages you get from Sephora.
Where she is. She was your first mistake. You suspect she knows the truth — maybe not the details, but the shape of it, the contours. She’s too close now, and you know it’s time to take some precautions.
The wind picks up and you shiver, burying your chin into the fur lined collar at your neck. It’s not smart to linger here, you need to get this done and get home. The gun is in pieces, the serial number long filed off thanks to its less than savory previous owner. You hold your breath as you toss the pieces into the river under the bridge. The rain from this afternoon has ballooned it wide and furious, each current swallows a piece of metal, until your pockets are empty. You wait a beat, then throw the gloves too. You exhale.
By the time you reach your car, you feel lighter than you have in years. She’s on your porch when you get home, and the relief in your stomach shifts to dread.
“You can tell me, you know. No matter how horrible it is. I trust you.”
You run through excuses but discard them all, sitting down heavily beside her. What comes out of your mouth surprises you. Gives you hope. “Okay. I’d like that.”
Bad Boy With A Heart of Gold
Ever since that morning in the cafe, she’s wheedled her way into your life. Seamless, like she was meant to be here, in the passenger side of your clunky Jeep, singing along to the playlist she put on as you drive her home.
“Co-pilot picks the music,” she likes to say.
You try to argue that technically, it’s not co-piloting if you are driving the streets of the town you both grew up in, the town that you know like the back of your hand, she hushes you with a kiss and that infectious grin.
She knows you now, knows the whole grumpy bad boy thing was just a front, she knows that you like singing along to music when you cook, that you always cry at that one shot in Titanic when the flare crackles against the sky, the ship stark and alone against the dark water. Now she threads her fingers through yours smiles at you, turning down the music.
“So,” she starts. “I know you’re all anti-fun or whatever, but I was wondering if you’d want to come to my parents Christmas Eve Party. They love you, and my mom is dying to show us off to all of her friends.”
You know she’s expecting to roll her eyes, but instead, a slow smile spreads across your lips. You love this time of year — not the religious parts, you never really cared about that. It sounds cheesy as fuck, but the general cheerful vibe in your sleepy little town made you happier and more content than you’d ever cared to admit. You swung your truck into her driveway, then tugged her close, hands sliding under her heavy mass of curls.
“I’d fuckin’ love that, babe.”
Recently Divorced Contractor Raising Their Three Kids On Their Own
You are frowning at a cabinet in the kitchen when you feel a gentle touch on your shoulder. “Don’t make that face at my cabinets.” they say, nudging you out of their way with their hip. ‘I paid a very handsome person a very handsome sum of money for those.”
You only feel a little sheepish as you step to the side, sparing one last glance at the cabinet in question. They’re right, it’s fine. It’s Thanksgiving, and the sound of your boys giggling in the living room with their daughter eases the ache in your chest that settled in when you signed your divorce papers. Now you have this, a houseful of laughing kids, the weight of someone next to you in bed every night, the smell of a feast in the air.
They turn to look at you, a stack of plates in their hands, eyebrows raised. “Were you planning on helping, or just enjoying the view?”
You step closer, set down the plates carefully on the counter, boxing them in. “Well here I was hoping I could do both.”
They halfheartedly swat at you as you wrap your arms around them. “Carrying on like this while our kids starve out there? I can’t believe you.”
“Please,” you snort, brushing your lips under their ear. “They’re watching The Lion King for the millionth time. They’re very busy.”
“Daaaaaad? Can we eat now?” Noah calls from the living room.
“You jinxed it,” They laugh, ruffling your hair.
You drop your head on their shoulder and groan good-naturedly. This is your life now, stolen moments between chores and running the kids to school. “Hands washed please, then yes, we can eat.” You call back, before lowering your voice. “You, I’ll deal with later.”
“Does this mean you’ll leave that cabinet alone?” They ask through a smirk.
“Well that depends,” you say, picking up the stack of plates. “How distracting can you be?”
Cool Girl Next Door Who Knows All The Good Parties
You had vague plans to go to the farmers market, or maybe a movie, but when you woke up, warm, half on top of her, leaving her bed seemed like the silliest thing imaginable.
It was first the properly cold day of the season, so instead you slept in and had sex and dozed some more and had sex some more and now it was early afternoon. She laughed as your stomach rumbled, quiet at first, then louder, more insistent.
“I can’t believe I was just gonna let you starve, what a terrible hostess.”
You smiled down at her, wondering briefly where your phone was before deciding it didn’t matter. “I didn’t let you do anything. I was just….busy.”
She raised an eyebrow, then waggled it. “Oh, busy, were you?” she teased, crawling back up your body. She kissed you again, and you almost let yourself get lost in her, the feeling of her shoulders underneath your hands, the smell of her skin. Then your stomach rumbled again, and she pulled away, laughing.
“Message received. Time for lunch. What kind of person would let their girlfriend starve?” She joked, as she threw on a pair of sweats and a beat up sweater. “Come on, keep me company as I cook for you, it’s the least you can do.”
You followed her, tossing on whatever items you found at the foot of the bed- your beat up jeans, a sweatshirt that was probably hers. She plunked a glass of water in front of you as you settled into one of the stools by the island.
“Prepare to be dazzled,” she trumpeted, as if she didn’t know you already were.
But you were stuck on something else, something you had to say before you lost your nerve. “Girlfriend?”
She turned from where she was looking into the fridge and grinned. “I mean. Yeah? If you want?”
“I want,” you said immediately. “I definitely want.”
She laughed, and closed the fridge, walking towards you with a gleam in her eye. “Good.” she whispered, before kissing you so hard it made you dizzy. “Also, we have to order something. I have absolutely no food.”
The Mysterious Neighbor Who Is Obviously a Witch
It was over now, though you still woke at night with screams ringing in your ears. Yes, you had won, but the price had been steeper than you could have imagined.
They all came, in the end. Your kinsmen had heard the signs, had come in droves, and you’d beat back the forces of an evil so great that your very marrow still remembered how close it had come to destroying everything.
You sighed. Sleep was far off, so you gently eased the blankets off your legs and shrugged into your robe, careful not to wake her. The sweetness of your victory had grown when she decided to stay, to make a home with you here, in your little house by the river and the mountains.
A cup of tea was what you needed, you thought, putting the kettle on. Tea with valerian root to lull you back to sleep, and a book to take your mind off the funerals you attended over the last few weeks. You settled into your favorite armchair in the living room, warmth from the tea mug seeping luxuriously through your fingers. You don’t remember falling asleep, but you must have, because the next thing you remember is the feeling of her shaking you gently awake.
“Bad dreams?” She asked, shaking her head when you nodded. “You should have woken me, I would have gotten rid of them.”
“Didn’t want to bother you,” you said through a yawn.
She clucked as she offered her hand, pulling you up and into her arms. “You can always wake me, you know that.”
The moonlight gleamed in her hair, the once dark strands now bright white. Her magic had changed that day, she was stronger than she’d been before, stronger than most of your kind. It made her more remote sometimes, like she was lost to the power that moved inside of her. But now, with you in her arms and the moonlight in her hair, she was the same witch you’d loved for years, the same witch you’d tried to stop loving but never could.
“You know, I feel much more awake now,” you whispered against her lips. “Don’t you?”