I live in a town that feels very postcard-perfect on many days. The other day I walked outside and it felt like that montage in You've Got Mail in New York when it is autumn and everything on the Upper West Side looks cheery and festive and all the kids are happy.

A few weeks ago, I bought a new coat. It's a new old coat. It's vintage. It’s black. It is Italian. It is a full-length winter coat. You can turn up the collar and look very chic, suddenly. It's roomy but not a tent, so you can wear a sweater under it, which is much nicer than having a tight-fitted coat that defeats the idea of layering. What are those tight-fitted coats good for?

On Sunday afternoon, I went out for a walk, in my coat, and for a moment I felt somewhat... disjointed? There I was, in my nice coat, and nice bag, and I suddenly felt haunted by a different, younger version of me from years ago: there I am, walking down the street, in a hand-me-down coat that didn't fit, a green, pilled sweater, a bag that didn't match, constantly worried about money. How did I get here, to a place where everything fits and looks nice? Why does the past reveal itself like this, in shadows and sudden bursts of memory evoked by a film or a food or a song that you were once obsessed with and now can't bear to listen. Would it have been different if I had never had this shadow to shrug off to start with? Why am I always worried about money? Sometimes, I feel so old, as if I have lived a million lives between what was and now.

Back to my coat. I adore my coat. I would walk around in all day and go to sleep in it if I did not have a cat, and also was not me. I have yet to drop coffee on it (as I did the other day on myself, right after I took a scenic photo of my coffee.) I have gone out on my bike on it, though I had to park my bike since the town was full of hordes of people doing their pakjesavond shopping. I have also, unfortunately, fallen in love with another coat at another vintage shop but I think (and the sensible shop owner agreed) that I really just need the one coat. There's also a lot to be said about how once you move you suddenly need a whole winter wardrobe but joke's on you, everyone, I've been knitting for years and now I'm wearing all the things even if the pale green handwarmers don’t match my pink jeans or tweed beanie. (That said, I have bought a couple of vintage skirts, including one in tartan, and a pair of tights that promises not to snag. We'll see.)