Dear Lands’ End,
It is with the heaviest of hearts that I write to tell you today about the loss of My Precious. The tale begins in an ordinary way. The day was brisk but sunny as I made my way to the salon for a cut and color. As I walked through the door way my stylist and friend commented on the fact that she had the same jacket as mine, as she proceeded to take my jacket to hang in the back closet. What a coincidence!
We went about the business of cutting and coloring— Me time of the highest order. Little did I know that I would soon be plunged into the depths of an outerwear tragedy.
I flipped through a magazine, checked my emails while I was “processed.” I don’t mind being processed l\like a can of Spam; and paying for it. In this way Spam and I are one.
Of coursel all self-care must come to an end; I gathered my things while my stylist walked to the back to get my coat. Except my jacket was no longer there. The search party of haircare professionals failed to locate it. Someone resisted the suggestion that we alert the authorities.
Outer fake and casual me:
“It will turn up!”
“What kind of sick, remorseless, sociopath would inflict such anguish”
Silver lining: I got to borrow my stylist’s identical jacket, which was super nice but it wasn’t the same because it wasn’t my size. As you well know, this is a goddamned three season jacket! I even ordered a new Primaloft ( read: miraculously light insulation) jacket but it’s not blue and it’s just not as cute as Old Blue. I named the jacket after having lost it.
She is gone, but not forgotten. Thank the powers there wasn’t a can of Spam in the pocket.