my thrift store jacket

I don’t have a Harris Tweed jacket anymore.

My wife gave me one before we were married.

She got it at a thrift store that her family ran.

Man.

I want one again.

But….you don’t see any of these jackets in thrift stores now.

I know.

I’ve looked.

I don’t know if a Harris Tweed sport jacket is in style or not….or whether I do anything anymore that makes sense to wear a jacket like that for.

Maybe I don’t really need something like that….but….I want it.

It’s beautiful and cool.

And….for some reason….impossible to find now.

I see all sorts of cheesy, tweedy jackets on the thrift store racks….but I run my fingers across them and look at the limited pallet of colors woven into the fabric…and know that they are something different from what I remember having.

When I open the jackets to check for the Harris Tweed label, I know that my hunch was right.

When something is that good, it’s hard to be fooled by a jacket that hopes to look “sort of” like it.

I don’t really “need” one of these jackets.

But….what kind of life would any of us live if we were only able to have the best and most beautiful of anything that was made in this world?

Especially if it comes from a thrift store?

Knowing that there’s an island full of people making the cloth these jackets are made of makes finding one again seem like even more of a “treasure” than it did before I saw this film.

Harris Tweed.

That is one cool jacket.

 

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.

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