Style: Penny Lane Coat
Once upon a time there was a movie that changed my life. I was in grade nine, and it shook me too my sole and lit a fire in my eyes. It made me want to stay up all night just to fucking write. It made me want to twirl on polished floors and jump into pools. It made me want to listen to the music my parents instilled in me. All of those long drives with cassette after cassette. Cream, Zeppelin, Cat, Fleetwood, Stones, Hendrix, Joni, Beach Boys, Who, Beatles.
It made me want to be her too. So I changed my name to Peny Lane (one less n) and made a name for myself. I stayed up late to write and twirled on polished floors. I bought round glassess and flares, lusted after musicians and fell in love with a boy Cat Stevens. But I never could get the coat. I looked. Trust me I looked. When I was 16 I made one similar, in denim and fur from spotlight. But it was similar and similar wasn’t enough.
Now over ten years have passed and it still shakes me to my core. I know every inch of that film to the point where I can’t watch it anymore. It’s just a part of me now and that’s enough. But my wardrobe was still missing that perfect coat.
So when my dearest friend moved to China and asked if I wanted something made I didn’t hesitate. Now was the time. The time to finally have that dream coat. In suede, with embroidery and fur and frills. After countless emails, sketches and coat ransoms, it turned up on my door step. Not similar, but the same.
To my dear friend in China,
You know who you are. I miss you, your fast talking ways and the way you raise you glass at everything. Come home soon. The Bowery and your girls are waiting.