I got taken to Angelo's for breakfast today, as a thanks for some editing. (WILL EDIT FOR FOOD.) We got there just ahead of what looked like a gaggle of sorority sistern. When we were seated in the window & our waitress looked out at the pack of young women, she said, "They're like carbon copies, aren't they?" I didn't know what she meant, specifically, until she continued with how much she wishes she'd bought stock in North Face 10 years ago. Sure enough, every single one of those girls---along with a full three quarters of the people under 40 in that joint---were wearing poofy down North Face coats, almost all black, a few brown or silver-gray. It was pretty wild.
Maybe this outerwear is "in" enough to wear over a cocktail dress as you scurry along an icy sidewalk on your way to Necto on a sub-zero Saturday night. Vs. eschewing outerwear entirely.
My brunch companions thought I was nuts, both in my hard-thunk bootstrap decision, and in my considering giving up something for Lent. A recreational Lent. Lent as a Lark.
I re-upped today too. It was very clear how very out of shape I've very gotten. I mean, very.