Pleather Weather
Fashion news travels fast. It always has. Take, for instance, recent news that researchers at the University of Zurich have finished investigating a unique leather scale armor found in the tomb of a horse rider in Northwest China. Using radiocarbon dating, they found it was made in the Neo-Assyrian Empire between the 6th and 8th century BCE before somehow ending up China. The armor was discovered in 2013 in the tomb of an approximately 30-year-old male near the modern-day city of Turfan.
Patrick Wertmann, of the Institute of Asian and Oriental Studies of the University of Zurich, was quoted as saying, “Even though we can’t trace the exact path of the scale armor from Assyria to Northwest China, the find is one of the rare actual proofs of West-East technology transfer across the Eurasian continent during the early first millennium BCE.” If all this sounds complicated, imagine someone finding a plaid jumpsuit in the Cave of Altamira that somehow made its way from Tulsa.
The mystery armor was composed of an intricate web of smaller leather pieces stitched together and designed to prevent the errant puncturing of one’s inner bits. Perhaps it was worn by a career mercenary from the Middle East who was hired on to fight in a conflict in China before sadly making a rash exit stage-left at a tender age.
The leather armor in question reminds me that for time untold, the hides of domestic beasts have literally kept our skin in the game, especially in dire weather. Until recently, the wearing of leather garments has been anything but a fashion statement. But that changed post-WWII when leather jackets became a favorite of the young and restless.
In bygone days, I owned two leather jackets. The first was brown and purchased in Florence during Carla’s and my grande Euro tour in the fall of 1987. I thought I looked dashing and urbane in it. I probably looked more like an albino chickenhawk draped in cowhide. Sadly, the jacket was shoddily constructed and started to fall apart after a year or two. It ended up in a hall closet along with all my other fractured fashion dreams.
Some years later, I bought a black leather jacket from a shop on Polk St. in the City. The selection of leather garments there went far beyond the norm. Especially notable were the ass-less chaps favored by Folsom St. Fair participants, definitely a combination of form and function.
The second jacket was heavier and of better quality. It lasted for years until the thought of wearing in public it began to pall. Maybe it was Dr. Evil speaking to me from the first Austin Powers movie when he said, “there’s nothing more pathetic than an aging hipster.” I ended up giving the jacket to a nephew who was decades younger. I’m sure he made more use of it than I ever did.
My leather jacket days, like those of wine and roses, are over. The thought of wearing one at this stage in the game sets off my internal alarm. The same one that give me a heads up when my fly is unzipped or when there’s an errant booger hanging from my left nostrich.
More than anything, I want avoid looking like the late Karl Lagerfeld in the photo above. Karl was one of the titans of international fashion for decades. He was once quoted as saying “trendy is the last stage before tacky.” You wouldn’t know that from the photo above. Apparently Karl lost his way towards the end of the runway. Sadly, none of his peeps were kind enough to tell him. But at least he wore leather. And he wasn’t buried in China.
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I remember that jacket; and wishing I had one that looked that good. But I have to admit, mine are moldering in the closet. At least until my Lagerfeld days arrive.