Portland, October. Wool coat, plain jeans, shoes worn for three years.

It rained this morning. Stopped by noon. That’s Portland for you.

I wore my wool coat. Not because it’s expensive. It isn’t. I’ve had it for four years. The elbows are starting to thin. One button came loose last winter and I sewed it back on crooked. You can see it if you look close. I don’t care.

The jeans are raw denim. I didn’t buy them for the brand. I bought them because the fabric felt heavy in my hands. That was two years ago. I’ve washed them maybe five times. They’ve faded where I keep my wallet. There’s a small rip near the back pocket that I haven’t fixed yet. I will. Probably next week.

The boots are the same pair I wore moving into this house. Three years ago. Maya stepped on them once while I was on a ladder. Left a scratch on the toe. Still there. The sole is worn flat in one spot. I should replace it. Haven’t gotten around to it.

I don’t dress to impress anyone. I dress because it’s cold and I need to carry my keys somewhere.

Maya took the photo for this post. She said the light was good. I was just standing there. She told me to turn slightly. I did.

That’s how it works.

Some people see a wool coat and think “investment piece.” I see a wool coat and think “keeps me dry enough and has pockets.” That’s it.

The jeans? They cover my legs. The boots? They keep my feet off the wet ground.

I’m not saying don’t care about clothes. I care a lot. That’s why I take things apart. But caring about clothes doesn’t mean treating them like they’re precious. Wear them. Get them dirty. Let them tear a little. Fix them when you have time.

Or don’t. That’s fine too.

Anyway. That’s what I wore today. Nothing special. Just things that have lasted.