Crimson & clover, over & over
All of my coats are black. This means that I’m either cool and enigmatic, or I’m very boring.
Either way, I can’t compete against the superior bravery of those who wear red winter coats. Slipping yourself into crimson wool every morning as you head out the door is a serious dedication to the business of being noticed by everyone. Choosing a symbolic and unapologetic color for such a significant part of your wardrobe for a few months out of the year draws attention to you like a moth to a clichÃ©. No matter how avant-garde your outfit is, if it’s in black you still get to retain a certain amount of austerity.
Red is different, though. Red is for rebellion and passion and quick tempers and blood and warmth and love. If black is the coals, red is the burning embers. I’m sure that most of the people who buy red outerwear don’t give their motivations much thought beyond the superficial aspects of the purchase, but there must be something inside of them that compels them to stand out a little. It’s completely innocuous. It’s also inflammatory.