Drip Dry

I’m in England right now for a series of meetings. All my work is in Oxford, but I spent yesterday and most of today in London. One of my old professors is here for the semester with a cadre of undergraduates from my college, so I stayed with him and his wife in the Chelsea flat where they’re living this fall.

The main difference between my professor and me is that he is constantly rolling his eyes at the lavish lifestyle surrounding his London digs, while I mostly just walked around with googly eyes.

Let me tell you, if you enjoy standing out in the rain and peering through the windows at sparkly holiday gowns and unbelievable shoes, King’s Road is the road for you.

I was trotting along in search of coffee and a place to hunker down and work for a few hours when I passed Toast Coats, and did a double take, because, wellorlakielyyellowcoat

The one on display in the window had the fur collar removed, and instead, the black, round collar of a dress underneath was showing. You know where I’m going with this, right?

I looked, I lusted, I wandered on. Then later I went back–ten minutes before closing–and went in to at least take a look at the thing. I found it, but couldn’t find a price (I looked it up later. It’s £500, so yeah, that’s not happening). At that point, a sales clerk came down and asked if she could help me. I showed her the coat. She looked me up and down, pawed through the five or six they had in stock, and told me they didn’t have it in my size. But would I like to try it on in the gray?

The gray? The GRAY?

Surely you jest.

Surely you jest.

No. No, I would not.

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