My first outfit post as a 29-yo and I couldn’t figure out what to wear. I decided to let movies dictate, the way movies already dictate half of my life. Trench affairs. That was what I was going to go with. The ambiguous trench coat, both classy and sexy, playful and dangerous. Neo wore a black trench coat in the Matrix. As did Rorschach in Watchmen, a leather one. Malcolm Reynolds wore his signature ‘brown coat’ on Firefly. Sherlock brought back the dark blue trench in the BBC instalment. Doctor Who, the Tenth Doctor, often sported a brown trench. And in the last scene of Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Holly Golightly wears the classic beige trench. My inspiration however goes back even further. Casablanca, Humphrey Bogart. No man ever wore a trench coat and fedora better than Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca. Period.
My colleague came in today asking about my birthday and how old I am now. That was when it felt official. Telling people you’re 29, there’s no way back from there. I feel as if I got sucked into a wormhole from age 21 to the back of the line. Time is a precious thing. We don’t cherish it as much as we should. I keep thinking about that video of Jerome Jarre lately, the video where he turns down a million bucks. In the video he tells about the inspiration for his journey around the globe. “Imagine you’re 99,” he says, “and you’re on your deathbed. If you had a chance to come back to right now, what would you do?” Those exact words echo in my head day in day out. What would I do.
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