Cape Coats, Not Scape Goats
Drunk on life, high on non-arm holes.
As far as I’m concerned, the only real heroes of our times are those who wear capes. Think Antonio Banderas as Zorro in Zorro, Christian Bale in post-American Psycho Bat-gear and the pink plaid cape-laden models of Delpozo’s most recent runway show.
The three characters listed have so much in common, right? Full heads of hair, great thighs, a stoicism about them and, of course, a divine appreciation for coats that come not with arm holes, which are incidentally coming back faster than Amelia jets toward to bathroom after her morning coffee — oh, who am I kidding? During her morning coffee.
But we’re still in the throes of 80 degree, blue sky bliss, so why are we talking about capes, right? Wrong. If you learn one thing about New York, let it be this: surreal weather gets pulled from under us like a rug in that saying about rugs and physics faster, again, than Amelia runs to the bathroom. So when that inevitably happens we will presumably think: what now? Unless we don’t, because we’ll be flourishing in comfort in the safety of the glorified, overpriced blankets that our personal fortune tellers a.k.a. computers have, through the vast e-commerce websites that populate the world wide web, showed us.
I, for one, am thrilled.
I have dressed up as Zorro at least three times for Halloween (chiefly because I appreciate not being questioned for carrying around a sword but also because I love a good cape just as much as the next fashion editor loves wearing her coat-proper around her shoulders like it is a cape even though it is not [a cape]). And though the surfacing capes are far more Navajo than they are black panther, I like to think of myself as a bipartisan.
Runway images via Style.com. Feature image credit: Left, courtesy of Vogue.com, photograph by Patrick Demarchelier. Right, courtesy of W Magazine, photograph by Craig McDean.