With WW definitions:
"Coated", the wearing of a coat or jacket
"Coating", the roaming about, wearing a coat or jacket
Coat:
--A protective covering from the elements
--A refuge of privacy
--A cocooning place of comfort
--Colors that feed your spirit
--A nourishment to the soul
Garments perform many functions but coats and jackets are often the initial visual presented from yourself to the world. From the extrovert to the introvert, from the extemporaneous to the hermit, an outer covering gives a direct, forceful or even mysterious placement of function, shape, color, texture, your doorway, open or closed to the world!
A life-long lover of all things fabric, garments and style, I have always been drawn to outer coverings, coats. I am the polar opposite of an exhibitionist. I do not like being on major display. While I do not seek to be invisible or to melt as incognito, I do gravitate to quiet, solitary stance, to let my wordsmith do the talking, rather than my physical self. I do admire a handful of loudmouth extroverts but do not emulate them.
Once I left home in my youth, I spent much time in rebellion and sorrow, hence my desire to be covered and mysterious in clothing. Terrible grief in my early youth drove my desire to hide and this meshed with my writer soul. Long coats were my forte and even wearing oversized men's coats that slathered heavy fabric over my petite frame, I loved the vagabond look. I wore very blunt intensity on my sleeve, driving many away from "THAT girl with the sharp tongue!" I was quite skilled in being both blunt and hidden, an odd juxtaposition. I was a rebel and a woman of sorrows.
One powerful coat I wore in my first year in San Francisco in 1979, was an enveloping man's coat, long, rumbly-bumbly huge sleeves in a rough-hewn tweed, not a delicate color at all. It covered me to my calves and was not polite. No belt, no definition of the woman hidden underneath except for the boldness of my eyes, which always spoke for me without a word. Big and wide sleeves overwhelmed my gaunt arms and I hid so well in that coat for a couple of years, roaming the scrappy SF streets in Eureka Valley and upper Market/Castro area. Bounding around my neck in various layers of heavy scarves, I survived the chilly fog of SF.
I did not need to display my body to hunt boys...I did that with my eyes. The very intense gaze I naturally had, drew men I was attracted to, quite well. Even without display, men could see I was not built like the proverbial brick outhouse.... I held my own just fine, thank you...and me and that coat wandered on many hunts for men, a fact that I am not proud of, considering the huge cost expended to my spirit. This was simply an exercise in raw power, hidden under all that fabric...that had most definitely a negative repercussion on down the road.
MY point in all this is to say that coats have always been a type of refuge for me, a place of hiding.
In the pitch of my 1970-71 Senior year of high school, in the terrible grief of loss of both Mom (stroke) and brother (Vietnam), I was a mass of sorrow and rage. I made a blaze of long dark blue cloak of heavy navy wool, again overwhelming to my small frame. I stalked in that cloak, hid 100% and did no display of body whatsoever. The cape was my traveling cave immersed in a volcano. People got out of my way when I wore that cape...but alas, no love was founded while I wore that sorrowful covering.
So much of the core female template of 2022 is DISPLAY and the pursuit of "sexual freedom." What a torment, from one who survived that mess back in my youth. All lies, all shambles, all a sales pitch from the devil himself, the father of lies.
I guess I am my Dad's daughter, as I clearly remember a classic topcoat my Dad had. When I once questioned him about that classic stylish long coat, he said " I wore that when I was out looking for something to sleep with."
Classy, Dad.
Not good. The rascal that he must have been, he was likely not a tender man with women, including my Mom who did not stay married to him.
From the wounds of my youth and my blunt persona, I still seek solace and covering my physical self in layers of fabric. Never will I be on display, despite my lifelong love of fabric and garments. I do love style, I just prefer to be mysterious and more on the line of the mental rather than the physical. This is why I am drawn to modest clothing. When I returned to God after many years of wandering from my Christian roots, I still clung to the refuge of covered clothing.
The power of modesty can be a balm to the battered soul. The healing hand of God and His Son also brings a cooling to the raw desires of human beings, especially when trammeled in difficult pursuits of the carnal.
At age 70, I know God is a lover of beauty! Fabric, texture, shape, He expressed that in His masterful Creation of the Earth, a staggeringly beautiful planet. Fabric is a weaving of beauty and can be a healing place to soothe the savage spirit and to humble our self before the mighty hand of God.
Being circumspect in dress is an honor to God. Being "sexy" can be reserved only for a woman with her husband, as God designed the complimentary opposites of male and female. Clothing is a reflection of our soul...and I see a great need for healing of us all, self included.
Wendy Williams Dec. 29, 2022
You have a wealth of wisdom, Wendy. Keep up the writing!