You'd Cry Too If It Happened To You...

Yesterday I stopped by my favorite thrift store haunt. My eye was immediately drawn to a vintage 1950's black leather motorcycle jacket. The jacket had the single zipper up the front and two zippered pockets across both sides of the chest. I had one years ago which I loved and alas someone apparently loved it more than myself, if you know what I mean.

I looked for a size in the jacket and found none. I removed it from the hanger and checked it out further. It was in perfect condition with the exception of perhaps needed a good conditioning. I then tried it on. It fit as if it were made for me. It was sleek cut, trim through the waist and had all the signs of being genuine. The collar label was however missing and I had no idea who made the thing. That did not much matter in that for all purposes it was the same jacket I had had years before. (I would provide a pic for you but, the option to insert a pic into blog posts seems to be missing today.) Maybe I should describe it further. The jacket is meant to be trim fitting, almost like a shirt and sits right at the waist. It has a single six inch vertical zipper at the sleeves and a banded collar with two snap buttons at the closure. Truly hot!

Good for you, Les and thanks for sharing. Silly, you know there’s a problem. I tried the jacket on and looked in the mirror. Fantastic, I thought. I zipped up the jacket. It was a perfect fit. I was again amazed at how this jacket was exactly like the other I had once. I stared in to the mirror imagining how the jacket might look with various jeans and boots and such. Well, dress-up play time was over and I was hungry. As I reached to pull the zipper down, I noticed that the slider was missing its pull tab. In an attempt for full disclosure, I just Googled “zipper parts,” This increased my knowledge base of zipper parts. If you’d like to learn more about zipper parts click here: http://www.zippersource.com/parts/definitions.asp

Anywho, the pull tab was missing. I tried to hold the slider tightly between my thumb and index finger to pull it down. It would not budge! After about five minutes or so of trying I became increasingly frustrated. The jacket which I loved was now becoming a straight jacket. My mind drifted to a former relationship (a metaphor perhaps) and immediately back to the slider. It seemed that the harder I tried to release myself from this “straight jacket,” the more my efforts were in vain. I started to do that thing where I breathe through my nose when I am totally frustrated. Nothing seemed to work. I looked around me to see if someone, anyone could release me from my leathery hell. The store or at least about me was empty save for two old birds looking at tchatzkah or rather knick knacks. Speechless, I looked towards them as if they would see my plight and make haste and come to my assistance. They saw me not. I started to sweat now. Goddamnit, I was going to have that nervous breakdown I have been avoiding for the past several years. I thought I was even going to cry. It then occurred to me to make my way to the counter. Maybe someone there had giant scissors or something else to get me out of this thing. I tripped and almost fell I hurried so.

When I got to the counter I blurted out my plight and the four foot six or seven inch tall cashier laughed and said, “I have an idea.” Her tone was as if to say, “Step aside people, I’m a doctor!” She handed me a large paper clip and instructed me to fish it through the hole that once held the tab. I did as she instructed. Oh, sweet relief. By this time I had sweat through my hat and there was the little woman barely able to contain herself. I mumbled a thank you and quickly returned to the coat rake. I left the store like I had stolen something. How good the rain felt.