The men of Tally Hall are awesome. Watch the videos. LOVE THEM.
I sound like a pterodactyl when I hiccup.
Holy CRAP, I may have just found a replacement Big Black Jacket. It has all the requirements. Extra length, cuff sleeves, pockets, hood, zip front... It's fleece, though, which I sometimes get annoyed by, and it's far too expensive to even think about if I don't know whether or not it'll work (on the other hand, it'll probably last for years and years of near-daily wear, much like the original did).
But... JACKET. Just knowing that there's SOMETHING like it out there gives me hope.
neron is mocking my love of Jacket. He does not understand. The Big Black Jacket = security blanket. In the jacket, I am safe. I am comfortable. I am hidden. Even if it is 100 degrees outside and I am wearing three layers, it is all good. Whatever else happens, I am okay. It is the epitome of safe space, and it is the only safe space which cannot be taken or occupied by another person (unlike my car, which was the other, but is now regularly used by Gabriel). Everything is good when you are surrounded by soft black fuzziness, even if everything is really crap.
... I am a normal, mentally healthy individual. Shut up.
Really, I think a lot of people have an article of clothing like that - when you are wearing it, life is good. Maybe it's a 'lucky' shirt, or a pair of pants that makes your ass look good. Maybe a pair of perfectly broken-in shoes. A particular item that you would wear every day if you could. Possibly your family or significant other has attempted to throw it out or take it away from you without your knowing because they are sick of seeing it.
If I were in a comic, it would be what I wore. Like Charlie Brown and his zig-zag shirts, I'd never be without it. The comic me would open a closet full of identical outfits topped off by the Big Black Jacket.
... This little babble has told me in very clear terms that I have not had near enough sleep.
*Not counting the millions of little slash alarms that go off in my brain when Watson and Sherlock are affectionate. 'Dear friends', pfffft. I'm actually trying to figure out where Watson's wife went... in Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes he's still married... but in The Return of Sherlock Holmes he's moved back to Baker street and no mention of his wife is made. I thought he met and married his wife a few months after meeting Holmes for the first time, but perhaps I was wrong...