They say that happiness can be elusive and that both four-leaf clovers and the proverbial needles in haystacks are hard to find, but for me, none of those quests can compare to the hunt for a good raincoat.
My oldest daughter had just started high school when I first found the perfect raincoat. A black hooded poncho with a lightly rubberized finish, this thing was made for rainy days, shedding water like a champ and keeping me dryer than James Bonds’ legendary martinis. The length was just right, the hood stayed on when I needed it to and it was light enough to be packable while still substantial enough to stand up to regular wear. Maybe I looked a little like an overgrown bat when I wore it, particularly if and when I flapped my arms, but that was totally fine with me, because this was the best raincoat I had ever owned.
Until one day it suddenly wasn’t.
It was a rainy Sukkos afternoon and walking home from my sister’s house, just one block from mine, I found myself soaked through. Holding my coat up to the light after I dried off, I could see through it, a clear sign that the waterproofing had started to flake off. The writing was on the wall: it was time to go shopping. Not that I could complain. By now, the same daughter who was starting high school when I bought the coat was married with three little kids.
You might think that replacing a raincoat is no big deal, but you would be wrong. I’m not quite sure why, but unless you are heading to stores that specialize in coats, raincoat season, at least in the greater New York area, is typically about four weeks long, starting in mid to late February. So, if you, like me, need to replace your coat in October, you may find yourself having a tough time just finding a raincoat, especially if you are genetically programmed to be thrifty and hate to spend too much on foul weather gear.
I know. In today’s day and age, you can find just about anything online, but I like to buy my raincoats in a store. I need to try them on, make sure they look good and are big enough for layering in slightly colder weather without being so baggy that I look like I am wearing a rubberized potato sack. Most importantly, I need to test-drive the hood to make sure it is big enough so that I don’t show up in shul Shabbos morning with the front of my sheitel dripping all over my face.
I waited till the end of winter, hit the stores and found plenty of raincoats. But surprisingly enough, none of them, except the really ugly ones, had hoods. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head, telling me to be practical and that it doesn’t matter what a raincoat looks like as long as it keeps you dry. I love you, Mom, but I have to respectfully disagree. When the weather is gloomy and you find yourself jumping puddles, a cute raincoat is the best way to brighten your day, so there was no way I was going to spend money on a coat that I didn’t like. As for the other coats, can someone please explain why anyone would make a raincoat that doesn’t have a hood? Not only do I have zero interest in having to deal with both a hat and a coat, I can’t imagine that the search for a rain hat that looks good is going to be a fun one. Thus ended my 2014 raincoat search. I prayed for sunny skies as often as possible and figured I would just manage with my slightly drippy raincoat.