The Son He Never Had?

 Left: My dad circa 1976; Right: Me with a ponytail stache

Photos by Lise Silva

Jacket- Vintage (My dad's), Dress- random shop in Dublin, Hat- Forever21, Booties- Asos

It's the night of December 31st, 1976--- My dad is a newly arrived Colombian immigrant stepping out of JFK airport, marveling at the mass of cars stuck in traffic. EFF IT'S COLD!-- The wind hits him like a ton of bricks as he attempts to hail a taxi, unaware that the fare all the way to Patterson, NJ will cost him every last penny.  Well, at least the 5 other people sharing his attic room would provide some body heat...

Naturally, the first thing my dad wanted to buy when he saved up enough money working less than minimum wage at a sheet metal factory was a heavy duty, impenetrable (and might I add swag-tastic) winter coat.  This coat is so thick, I swear it must be bullet proof--- it weighs at least 6 lbs.  Even though its 70's lapels and exaggerated pockets fell out of fashion, my dad always held on to it as a symbol of overcoming his first struggles here in the U.S.--- he has since gone on to become a successful ophthalmologist (the journey to that point could be a whole series blog posts, but I'll spare you).  He would tell me the story about the oxblood leather trench hanging in the back of his closet as a little girl--- I loved it so much I would try on the coat, practically drowning in it and toppling over.  As I got older, I toyed with the idea of having it altered to fit my frame, but decided against it out of fear--- I wouldn't trust just anyone with a pair of shears.  

This coat is ridiculous, groovy, amazing, and although a little over-sized and missing one button, perfect the way it is :)