Clothes ought to make one stand up straight, walk with a degree of confidence, and stride up to any bar to demand the landlord's finest ales and a packet of pork scratchings, my good man. A smart coat instils a degree of sharpness even on a rainy Thursday night when you have to get on a filthy bus and sit next to Old Mother Rancid. Furthermore, a coat needs to finish off an outfit. This item, however, will do none of these things for you: a slouchy, grouchy and pouchy offering whose utter lack of charm and elegance will make you drag your knuckles on the floor and forget all the polysyllabic words you ever knew.
This is described as a cocoon coat, an admirable description in the circumstances: clearly the gaudy, frivolous occupant has long since departed, and left this colourless husk behind.
Dropping the shoulders on this coat and fitting sleeves and collar in fake leather probably sounded like an ace idea in the first two weeks of fashion school term. And that single button fastening is only a step away from tying the coat in the middle with a piece of string and carrying all your belongings in three Morrison's bags.
£69, Miss Selfridge.
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