So, most people get inebriated and embarrass themselves by gushing relentless about their significant other. I, on the other hand spent a good twenty minutes in the small hours of Saturday morning explaining why my new jacket is sooooooo perfect and utterly amazing and all I could ever hope for.
Here's why: behold the greatest achievement of my little life thus far. The most perfect suede Jacket which set me back a meagre two euros. Two! Found hiding behind much discarded nylon tat in an unassuming Bangladeshi-ran market stall in San Lorenzo. Every detail enthuses me: the mustard, silky, quilted lining, the perfectly over-sized fit, the warm honey-tan shade...I could go on.
I haven't taken it off thus far this Autumn and it's fast becoming the centre of my seasonal wardrobe. It just seems to be one of those pieces that completes an outfit, adds an undefinable edge and never fails to fill me with an unashamed, unabashed smugness which, in my humble opinion is completely justified.
Just don't ask me where it's from. At least if my intoxication is apparent.
Trust me, It might get emotional.