I can think of several stories off the top of my head.
A few years ago I had this wicked mid-length jean jacket (you know the ones with the faux-fur trim – so in at the time). I loved that jacket. It was dressy enough to go with, well, dresses and casual enough to go with jeans. Anyway, New Years Eve we’re all on a pub crawl, boozing it up, flirting with random strangers and dancing on the tables (naturally if it’s a table-dancing story, I’m with PartyGirl/TitBags).
The party-bus driver told me my jacket would be safe resting on the bus and I drunkenly believed him. As I stumbled my way into bar three of the evening, I carelessly tossed that jacket on a seat. It would be the last time I saw it.
For a long time I refused to buy a winter coat. Maybe this is because I don’t believe in winter and if you don’t believe in something it probably doesn’t exist. Am I right? Apparently not.
Winter still comes, that bastard. So I bought a long white, down filled winter coat. It had a hood and was like being wrapped in a fire. Only without the unpleasant burning sensation and 2nd degree burns.
Super Bowl Sunday I was playing football with a huge group of people before going to a pub to watch the game. Naturally after exercising like that you’re hot and have no need for down-filled jackets so I left it in my friends car.
Well, I ended up leaving before him. Without my jacket. He soon moved to Vancouver and the white coat has never been heard from or seen since.
I have a laundry-list of poor innocent coats left behind at bars: cute little black blazer (RIP), short gray 3-buttoned wool pea-coat, brown plaid jacket, long black wool coat, jean jackets (times two), and beige corduroy blazer (I miss you).
I thought everything had gotten better. I bought a few new trench coats (including an adorable red one), a couple of blazers, 2 leather jackets, a few fleeces, a nice HH snowboarder coat from my parents – things were looking up.
I had gone months without losing anything. I was being responsible!
Then my home flooded. I packed away most of the jackets (as it was the middle of winter, I had no need for a short sleeved cape-style jacket). The rest I took with me to my parents house where I ended up staying for 4 months while they gutted my home and rebuilt it.
As I unpacked my boxes after moving back into my place I realized that a few important things were missing.
All of my jackets that I had stashed away for spring/summer/fall.
Every. Single. One.
I think maybe the movers stole them for their wives. Then again, maybe jackets just don’t like me.