I absolutely loved my dad’s old suede jacket. He’d had it for as long as I could remember—a relic from his more rock ‘n’ roll days—and it had been worn to a buttery softness. When the lining finally fell apart and the suede grew so thin it was nearly transparent, he decided it was time to retire it. But I couldn’t stand the thought of letting it go.
Trying it on, I felt amazing—like a true chip off the old block. It wasn’t heavy at all, and even the buttons, covered in matching suede, were soft to the touch. Sure, it had a layer of London grime and smelled of Old Holborn tobacco, but I thought it was the coolest thing. I was around 13 and couldn’t have afforded a suede jacket in a million years, so I claimed it as my own and set about bringing it back to life, like the singing mending mice in Bagpuss.
My mum and I picked out some bright blue fabric for the new lining—a surprisingly bold choice, looking back. After she relined it for me (she was a woman of many talents—she even papered the wall behind me in that photo), the jacket felt as good as new, if not better. What had once been part of my dad’s identity became mine, and I wore it until pieces of the suede started breaking off and dangling unpleasantly into my tea. At that point, it was undeniably done for.
I had a habit of borrowing my dad’s clothes, and they often became some of my favorite teenage outfits. There was the threadbare checked shirt I used as a nightgown, which I decorated by sewing tiny novelty buttons all over it—toadstools, pineapples, and whatnot. Then there was the suit jacket I took when I was a bit older and wore as a coat (it wasn’t very warm, but who cares about that when you’re a teenager?). And there was the pleated, heavy-wool kilt from when he was a boy, which I wore as a miniskirt.
I was really into badges back then, and my favorite was a Playboy bunny pin. I loved the mix of a cute rabbit with the naughty, sexy, grown-up world it represented—plus the feeling that wearing it was a little rebellious. That bunny captured my imagination as I was stepping into womanhood.
I have to mention the hat, too. Everyone was wearing bowler hats or wide-brimmed styles in the ’80s—Bananarama, Debbie Gibson, Madonna—but my inspiration came from the 1985 cover of Face magazine featuring Felix Howard. He was 13 and had starred in Madonna’s “Open Your Heart” video. In that iconic photo, he wore a black felt hat with a strip of newsprint tucked into the ribbon that read “Killer.”
Also worth noting are the Chinese lucky dolls I hung from the top button of the jacket. They came from one of my all-time favorite childhood shops: the late, great Neal Street East in London’s Covent Garden. The place was filled with treasures from China, Japan, and beyond, and it had a “basement bazaar” full of wonderfully affordable trinkets, like the fan you can just make out on the wall behind me in the hat photo. It was a magical place, and everything I ever bought there felt magical too.
Frequently Asked Questions
Of course Here is a list of FAQs about your favorite childhood outfit written in a natural and helpful tone
General Beginner Questions
Q What was so special about a dads old jacket
A It wasnt just a jacket it was a piece of my dad Wearing it made me feel connected to him safe and a little bit cooler than I probably was
Q Why would you wear something that was fraying and falling apart
A Because its sentimental value was far more important than how it looked The damage was just proof of how much I loved and used it
Q Isnt suede a delicate material for a kid to wear all the time
A Absolutely Suede is soft and can easily be damaged which is exactly why it started to fray from constant wear That wear and tear became part of its story
Practical HowTo Questions
Q How did you deal with the frayed pieces dangling into your tea
A Id usually just tuck the loose strands back into a pocket or cuff or sometimes Id carefully trim the longest most problematic pieces with scissors
Q Could a jacket like that be repaired
A To a degree yes A tailor could potentially reinforce the lining or seams But for the suede itself significant fraying is very hard to fix without altering its look and feel
Q Whats the best way to store or preserve a sentimental clothing item like that
A Keep it in a cool dry place away from direct sunlight Store it in a breathable garment bag and stuff the sleeves with acidfree tissue paper to help it keep its shape
Advanced Thoughtful Questions
Q This story seems to be about more than just clothing What does it represent
A Its a powerful metaphor for comfort identity and the way we hold onto pieces of our past The physical deterioration of the jacket mirrors how our most cherished memories become worn and fragile over time yet no less valuable
Q Is there a way to enjoy a fragile sentimental item without eventually destroying it
