Dearest Lorraine,
All strength to you (and the good folk at Rajkumah), in replenishing the world’s rubber raincoat supplies!
For me, in the good old days, stepping out into the rain always elicited a double thrill. Yes, there was the continuous (background) pleasure of being enveloped in one’s own personal rubberised environment, but in addition there was also the very real chance of coming across other REAL Mackintosh wearers.
Sadly, with the demise of the traditional raincoat, those days are virtually gone. But occasionally, very occasionally, the clock jumps back.
I was in town the other day, minding my own business. It had rained in the morning, but had cleared by noon and was sunny. So I was totally off my guard, when… well it was the sound that gave her away… the classic rubber raincoat ripple!
And right in front of me was a lady clad in the most exquisite of rubberised rain jackets! It just had to be seen: the light blue rubber lining of the hood bobbing up and down, the right swing and bounce of rubberised material as she walked! Absolutely captivating!
At one point my nose definitely caught a slight suggestion of rubber as I stood behind her as we waited to cross the road (just a hint above the smell of city exhaust fumes)...
This was such a rarity.
And then, as fast as she had entered into my world, she stepped through the door of what I assume were her offices, and was gone.
Is she an ordinary raincoat wearer or maybe a serious devotee? And where did she get it from? I would dearly love to know.
Such encounters still make life so exciting!
RALPH