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Sugar coat


She kept walking at a perfectly paced clip.

But hurry!!!!

What's wrong with you? She asks me, moving a bit faster.

It's raining! My coat...my coat!!!!

She looks at me, a bit amused, and says quite logically, It's not made of sugar you know.

At this very moment, it occurs to me that if I ever open a jacket store, it will be called Sugar coat.

Yes, please do sugar coat it, my advertising will read. Sugar coat every little thing.

In that moment, however, as I was running for my coat's life, I had to face it. Paris winters are not a good combination for teal knee-length woollen coats.

Not because it's not the obligatory black uniform of the city.

Nor is it how its length does no favours for someone vertically challenged like me.

Nor even the fact that it has exactly one button, making it necessary to wear blanket-sized scarfs to protect against the cold.

It's all the rain, snow, rain/snow, snow-like rain.

When I look up weather reports, it is always with some level of anxiety. These days it's been grey with a chance of rain, followed by heavy rain with light rain to follow.

Finally, this week, dismayed, I retired my sugar coat for the week and returned back to my black puffy warm jacket.

So, bring it on rain!

He's resting right now, but sugar coat's got my back.