By MARIEL HOWSEPIAN digs black coffee, fairy tales and a man in coveralls. She lives in Santa Monica and
A COUPLE OF DAYS AGO, I decided I needed a trench coat. It was, according to Dallas Raines, our hottest week all summer. Everyone on the Promenade was flip-flopping around with ice-blendeds, but I was on a mission.
Every time a fashion magazine or a daytime talk show runs a story on the 10 must-haves for every woman's wardrobe, one of the must-haves is inevitably a trench coat. It can, they rave, be worn with everything — jeans, a suit, a little black dress — or, fulfilling just one of many male fantasies, be worn with nothing but lipstick and heels. In my own fantasy, I'm wearing my trench with black, knee-high stiletto boots, a member of the Art Crime Team (an elite FBI division), jetting around the world stealing pre-Columbian artifacts back from the bad guys. (As a child, I may have played one too many games of “Where In the World is Carmen Sandiego?”) In a nightmare, I'm wearing my trench belted over a T-shirt and beige cotton briefs, barefoot and in a panic because I've overslept on street cleaning day. The meter-reader is writing me a $47 ticket, and I'm begging him to please just let me move my car. This is so much less glamorous than the way Greta Garbo wore hers, paired with a beret.
Garbo was followed by Katharine Hepburn, Elizabeth Taylor, and just recently, Jessica Alba was photographed in Vancouver wearing a banana yellow Kenneth Cole trench. It looks great on her, but me? Walter Mitty-ish jaunts aside, I am still a pragmatist. I don't want a riff on the classic. I want the classic.
The problem is, I can't afford the classic.
What came to be known as the “trench” coat was invented by Burberry. In the late 19th century, Thomas Burberry patented a fabric he called “gabardine.” By waterproofing yarn and weaving it into a tight twill, Burberry created a material that was both water-resistant and breathable. Roald Amundsen, the first explorer to reach the South Pole, did so in Burberry coveralls. During WWI, the Burberry topcoat was standard-issue to British soldiers. The coats became known as “trenches” for the excavations used as defense against enemy fire.
The trench was designed to be practical, and the topcoats worn by WWI soldiers were not couture. A Burberry coat now, with its trademarked (and much knocked-off) plaid, costs as much as my rent. Burberry even has something called “The Art of the Trench.” Customers can design their own coat. I quickly imagined this scene as “Trench Coat: The Musical,” in which a tailor and his assistants dance around the lead with measuring tapes and fabric swatches.
But then it was right back to reality, summer, air conditioned Banana Republic, and women trying on coats over tank tops and shorty shorts. My mission: A trench, single breasted, knee-length, with clean lines and simple styling.
My first instinct was to reach for black. Black goes with everything. It can be worn day or night. But, I once read a good piece of advice: A raincoat should be in a color other than black, so as to — in the event of actual rain — lift one's spirits.
I chose “stone,” a color I would call cream, a color that will not camouflage the coffee I will probably spill the first time that I wear my new coat. Plus, the stone coat made me think of Audrey Hepburn in the final scene of “Breakfast at Tiffany's” when Holly Golightly redefines her meaning of love and she and Paul kiss in the rain.
And spies. It, of course, made me think of spies.
Tips for fitting a trench: ■DO grab a sweater from a nearby table to tug on over your tank top. Chances are, you'll be wearing your coat over more than a tank in December. ■ BUTTON UP. If the coat fits in the waist, but is too small across the bust, it's too small. DON'T tell yourself you can wear that top button undone. ■DO cross your arms across your chest. If the trench pulls anywhere, try a larger size.
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on August 30, 2007. Read the original PDF.