To be fair, it isn't only Queens. It's the Bronx, Staten Island, and the southern-most parts of Brooklyn too. That's what this coat says: outer-borough old ladyhood.
I bought this coat at Costco last year, but never got a chance to wear it because global warming. But this year winter showed up, and it turns out this coat is fucking amazeballs in cold weather. It's supposed to be on average 10 degrees all week, and I am spending the better part of tomorrow in the walk-in meat locker known as the Treadwell Ice Arena to watch Paige twirl around on ice skates while I freeze my heinie off and eat popcorn out of sheer boredom.
That's what I get for living in Alaska in winter. Hell, these days I'm happy when we even get a winter, so I'm not complaining. I'm just saying, I am owning this look. (Even Geoff was like, "My mom had a coat like that in the '80s." Dis/Compliment)!
This is the coat you wear when you live alone on Ocean Parkway with your three cats. It's the coat you rock when you go to Key Food to buy more Meow Mix and some margarine and Wonder Bread and day-old Entenman's pound cake and a can of Bumble Bee tuna. It's the coat you're in as you put those groceries into a big, square metal plastic cart thing on tiny shitty wheels and thunk thunk thunk it down the steps to the Q train. And when you get out at your stop, you sit on a bench to catch your breath and feed a flock of disease-ridden pigeons and squirrels saltines from your pleather purse. Then you go home and sit on your plastic-covered couch and watch Price is Right and Mash re-runs on basic Time-Warner cable until you fall asleep with a day-old free copy of AM-New York in your lap.
Some might view this as a depressing tableau, but not me. This is where I'm headed and I am owning that shit. And to top it off, I smelled like latkes tonight. I am accompanied in this photo by another Alaskan Jewess--or, as we call ourselves, "the Frozen Chosen"--at yet a third tribe member's house, where she deftly prepared the delicious greasy hash browns that I make myself sick eating this time of year. I defy Ann Coulter or Steve Bannon to hate a latke. Those fuckers don't know what they're missing.
But I digress. The point is I'm beginning to grow into this coat, both mentally and physically, and as you will see from the photo I am not alone.
I am well past the point of shame, as my very last style-fuck has flown out the window along with any misgivings I might have harbored about this amazing coat, which now reeks permanently of grease. I now am simply looking forward to embarrassing my children in it and being extremely comfortable and warm while I do so.
Long live the Old Lady from Queens coat!