Wool Coats and Parkas

Ok fine, I will admit it; I have a competitive streak. I take full credit and glory when a game of pool falls in my favour only because my opponent scratches. I am a sore loser and I am assured to have a wicked smile across my face if I peg out in cribbage. I realize these are not admirable traits, but I am trying to improve. I promise!

In the eighth grade, I traveled to Europe with a handful of my teachers and classmates. I remember thinking curiously about how one of the teachers and his wife wore matching jackets. It was cutesy and noticeable that they matched. Over time, I too have learned to love matching. I had a habit of matching the colour of my sneakers to the colour of my t-shirts in undergrad. Though the penchant for Chuck Taylor's has waned, I match chunky necklaces to my full A-line skirts now that I have embarked on the 9-5 world.

This competitive streak combined with my desire to be matchy-matchy has lead to a dueling of jackets in our house. To be clear, I take full blame for the joust occurring at the doors of our hall closet every time we leave the apartment.

Greg is a believer in the uniform. He dresses scientifically in the same way I previously described for Gwyneth Paltrow. He enjoys black t-shirts and denim for weekends, and dark jeans with a sports jacket and crisp dress shirt while at the office. He has interesting cuff links with family importance and occupies little space in our closet. Meanwhile, my dresser drawers are stuffed to capacity.

Each morning, when I'm trying my best to match up a smart outfit for the office, Greg gives me a full weather report. I then select one of three winter jackets from the closet - a black floor-length deep-freeze-ready parka, a grey hooded knee-length down jacket and a white wool coat - all the while going over in my mind which jacket selection Greg might make that morning. Greg also owns a similar three-tiered stack of winter outerwear. Call me crazy, but I have to wear the equivalent jacket to Greg's. It would seem silly and unmatchy to be taking our walk after work with me in a coat reminiscent of a sleeping bag, while he's wearing a stylish black wool coat. Though we chuckle about my neuroses, I secretly know Greg feels the same way. This is the only way I can rationalize why he insists on wearing a black turtleneck whenever I do. I would like to reveal that this desire wanes when the temperatures warm, but a scan of recent photos of us reveals I enjoy matching jackets for all seasons.