It was warm enough yesterday for me to wear my classic Schott Perfecto, which someone I loved long ago, after much haggling, bought for me on Orchard Street for $99. The jacket has many stories to tell (I've heard you can't consider one properly broken in until you've ****ed in it), I've kept it in good shape, and it's eternally in fashion, with various designers doing takes on it that never seem to improve on the original.
It's always been iconic - think Marlon Brando in The Wild One. It's been the subject of books (this one originally had a studded pleather cover) and songs, like the one that gave this post its title by the New Zealand band The Chills, which was the first MP3 anyone ever shared with me (thanks, T.!).
The enduring appeal? Whenever I wear it, I feel like Brando's character, who when asked "What are you rebelling against?" replied "Whaddaya got?" It's the wearable elixir of youth.