v. 20 The Audacity of a Coat: Do You Care?
Welcome to Life, Created—a new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll.
It started as a regular cold ass winter walk—just me, my errands and my beloved black shearling coat. The one with I DO CARE painted across the back in white paint with pink spatter. It’s been a frigid-weather staple in my closet for a few years, something I throw on without much thought. But on this particular day, within the span of a single mile, something unexpected happened: I was stopped five different times by strangers. People didn’t just like my coat—they needed to tell me how much they loved it. One woman was so into it that she stopped her car in the middle of the street in traffic and rolled down her window to yell her appreciation. No hesitation. Just full-volume admiration, traffic be damned. Honestly? I wholeheartedly respect that level of commitment. (Though it did nearly cause an accident but …I digress.)
Here’s the thing: I’ve always loved clothing as a form of self-expression—it shifts your energy, sets a tone, makes you feel more like you…or me. But this wasn’t about style. It wasn’t about me at all. The reactions I got weren’t just about the coat itself but about what it said. And more importantly, what it meant. Because right now, in a world that often feels heavy, indifferent, and disconnected, those three little words—I DO CARE—hit differently. They land somewhere deep. They serve as a tiny, unexpected reminder that someone still gives a damn.
I don’t generally talk politics in my writing but in this instance, I feel compelled to share the full context.
This coat didn’t start out as a grand statement about the world today. I actually painted those words on it years ago, in direct response to a different moment—one that, at the time, felt equally frustrating and absurd. You might remember when Melania Trump wore that now-infamous green jacket that read, "I REALLY DON’T CARE, DO U?" as she boarded a plane to visit detained migrant children at the Texas border. The sheer audacity. It was a moment so wildly careless that it became permanently lodged in my brain as one of those “I cannot believe this is real life” moments. (For the record: It was real life.) She later stated that the jacket’s message was directed at the media, but let’s be honest—when you wear a jacket with a statement that tone-deaf, you have to be prepared for people to, well… read it.
Fast forward to me, strolling through these mean Montclair winter streets in my black shearling coat with the words "I DO CARE" painted in big white letters across the back. A not-so-subtle nod to that infamous moment.
“Because we’re living in a time where caring—genuinely, openly, unapologetically—feels like an act of defiance. And maybe, in some small way, that’s exactly what it is.”
But here’s the wild part: no one who stopped me connected my coat to this incident years ago. The world has long since moved on from that specific controversy, but the feeling behind it—the exhaustion, the yearning for something softer, something human—that still lingers. And that’s why people stopped. That’s why they shouted from their cars and crossed the street just to say something. Because we’re living in a time where caring—genuinely, openly, unapologetically—feels like an act of defiance. And maybe, in some small way, that’s exactly what it is.
Listen, I do think my coat is fabulous (obviously), but that’s not why it struck such a chord with people. This was simply a brief moment of reassurance in a world that feels increasingly bizarre. A reminder that despite everything—the relentless news cycles, the heaviness, the disconnection—we’re still here. And we still care.
Here’s what I keep coming back to: the small, everyday ways we push back against the darkness actually DOES matter. The world can feel bizarre and terrifying—because, frankly, sometimes it is—but these tiny, localized acts of resistance and joy— they help. They remind us that we’re not alone. They create ripples. A conversation with a stranger, a shared laugh, a brief moment of yes, I see you—these are the things that keep us going, that add up to something bigger. They are proof that despite everything, we are still here. Still showing up. Still choosing connection over apathy. And maybe in a world that constantly tries to numb us; choosing to care—loudly, visibly, and without apology—is the one of the most radical things we can do.
Every essay features a section called “One Fine Microjoy” – an experience, place, or thing that brings me joy, grace, and hope amidst life’s ups and downs. I hope it invites you to recognize and appreciate the delights that ground, inspire, and enrich our journey.
Today’s microjoy: Shaker and The Bean😂 Shaker, my wildly enthusiastic and deeply determined orange cat with CH, stole a green bean from me like it was a Michelin-starred dessert. But since his head shakes so much when he eats, he spent four whole minutes locked in an epic battle with the green bean he tragically dropped. Every time he got it into his mouth, it promptly fell back to the floor repeating “Not Today, Satan” to sweet lil’ Shaker. After several failed attempts, he let out a dramatic sigh (probably) and just walked off in frustration, leaving the bean victorious. And in that tiny, absurd moment of watching this go down, the world felt a little lighter—because honestly, same, Shaker. Same.
That’s all for today. Thanks for reading Life, Created.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
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