Winter Coats, or the Warmth of Possibility

OK, so I'm not the world's most glamorous person. I have no contacts in the fashion world, my bra never matches my knickers, and I have my fair share of issues when it comes to getting dressed in the morning. I'm an academic who spends most of her time working from home, so you'll often find me sitting at my desk in last night's pajamas, wallowing in my own filth. I know, my husband's a lucky guy, right?

Nonetheless, despite spending vast portions of my life looking positively feral, I find fashion exhilarating. Just as much as cultural analysis or a great novel or crafting the perfect sentence, clothes get me going. That I am a committed feminist who has been known to critique the evils of capitalism makes this declaration of love feel somewhat like a frivolous coming out, but that's a discussion for another time. Right now, I just want to share some of my excitement regarding the autumn collections.

Here is the image, taken from the blog of the highstreet store Oasis, that triggered this post:

Hardly exceptional in itself, I'm sure you'll agree. You can barely see anything of the model, and the fire exit signs and stacked chairs conjure up images of village halls after the Cub Scouts have left.

This image, though, genuinely pleases me. More than that, it excites me. Partly it's the clothes - I'm off to New York in December, and can think of nothing better than swanking around that city in a shaggy faux-fur coat, lightly dusted with snow. Partly, though, it's the element of concealment, of potential. The coat might be boxy in real life, or too short in the arms; it might look less art house goth, and more eighties prostitute. It might very well be too expensive. Yet in this image of the preparations for Oasis's autumn winter 2010 campaign shoot, it could be perfect. For as long as it remains partially hidden, it remains pregnant with possibility.

This post, then, relates less to my excitement about a particular garment and more to the myriad pleasures of possibility itself. To some extent, I would argue, these pleasures lie at the heart of shopping's general appeal as a leisure activity; to shop is always to indulge a desire for expectation, challenge, and search. These last few weeks - days? - before the AW collections go live, though, are particularly precious, as a pervasive atmosphere of heightened potentiality has descended. For now, at least, our objects of desire remain partially hidden. Enjoy it.