I’D RATHER SUFFER THAN WEAR A PUTRID PUFFERIt doesn’t get particularly cold here in Sydney, especially in the Eastern Suburbs. It’s a slightly different story at the foot of the mountains, but you’re still unlikely to get a frost. In fact, upon doing a bit of research I found that the historical average low temperature in winter is around 8 degrees Celcius, and historical average winter highs come in at around 16 degrees Celcius. Which brings me to the point of this article: Why the hell do Eastern Suburbs residents feel the need to don those ugly down-filled puffer jackets?
When I read the ‘Thumbs Up, Thumbs Down’ section in the June 2017 edition of The Beast and saw puffer Jackets placed prominently near the top of the positive pile, I nearly puked up my Prosecco. What were the editors thinking? Was this some kind of cruel joke?
You don’t need to have done time at the Fashion Police Academy to know that these garments break all sorts of style laws. They are horrendous on the eye. They also seem to cost a small fortune, which might go some way to explaining why everyone is wearing them. I’m assuming that people buy them for their trips to Queenstown or Thredbo and then feel the need to flap about in them back home to get some value from their investment.
The puffer jacket was always intended to be nothing more than an insulating layer worn beneath another jacket. Unfortunately, like tights (which are now known as ‘active wear’), the puffer has pushed its way to the fore and, quite frankly, I find it offensive. How the hell can half a sleeping bag with sleeves sewn in to it be considered reasonable outerwear?
In Bondi, people swim outdoors all year round. There is a club, the Bondi Icebergs, dedicated to this pursuit. If the climate necessitated puffer jackets, people would not be hitting the pool during the winter months. Period.
And in a city where space is at a premium, the puffer jacket is invasive. On public transport, people wearing the now popular garment are taking up at least an extra 10 per cent of cabin room. As such, I am thinking of starting a ‘Push a Person in a Puffer’ campaign, to let these people know that neither their extra large footprint, nor their general aesthetic, is appreciated. In fact, I’m going to set up a Facebook page right now in preparation of posting unflattering videos of my victims!
In closing, there is no better way to confirm that something is sartorially askew than to make the three-hour trip down the Hume to the nation’s capital. A literal hotbed of dagginess, if the public servants who live in the shadows of Parliament House are following a particular fad, we Eastern Suburbs folk are best to avoid it. Needless to say, Civic was a sea of down jackets and multiple Michelin men were spotted at nearly every café in Manuka.
The proof is quite clearly in the pudding. The puffer jacket is putrid and unnecessary. The time is now to put yours on mothballs until your next ski trip.