On our recent art trip to Pisa, I traveled in grand style, wearing my favorite coat.
It's a snug black wool coat with fur edging that my aunt had custom-made for herself when she was in her twenties, sixty years ago. When she gave it to me some time back, she laughed and suggested that perhaps I could wear it for Carnival, as a costume - its slender profile and tight shoulders seemed hopelessly out of style at the time. I didn't. But my younger sister did, and when I eventually reclaimed it I had to vacuum colorful Carnival confetti, coriandoli, out of the fur.
The fabric is 100% wool, and it's amazingly warm. Maybe it's a quality of wool that isn't used anymore. Or maybe the warmth I feel comes from knowing that I'm wearing not just a stylish garment, but a piece of my family history.
