When the Leather Jacket Stops Being a Costume
I bought my first real leather jacket at twenty-three. It was a second-hand moto style, scuffed at the elbows and smelling of someone else’s cigarettes and, faintly, of polish. I wore it because I thought it looked cool, a prop in the story I was telling about myself. For years, that’s what outerwear was: a … When the Leather Jacket Stops Being a Costume