It’s not that I forget about my Suzanne-made cape collection. Indeed, I think about it all the time. I’d wear a cape everywhere, all the time—except I continue to have a problem I’ve had my entire life. When I have some extraordinary piece of haberdashery, I tend to decide not to wear it, for fear I will do something to destroy its majesty. When it comes to one of my capes, I get overwhelmed with the possibilities of how I could damage it while I’m out and about. I could spill on it, get it caught in the car door, get it caught in an elevator door, get it caught in a revolving door, and on so on. So I wear a cape sparingly and only at the very special-est of special events. But guess what! Every day is a special event.
This problem of mine must change. I must have more confidence in my abilities to keep my capes safe from harm. And so what if I spill on a cape? That’s what dry cleaners are there for. I am nearly an official old person, and it’s high time I wear my capes (and other clothes I “save” for only the mightiest of occasions) as much as I want to. Remember when you were a kid and for some strange, but logical-to-you reason you wanted to wear your swimsuit or cowboy boots—or both—to bed at night? There was no crime in that. And there’s no crime in my wearing my capes to bed or to the 7-11 or wherever. I must conquer this stoopid fear of ruining my most precious duds. By the time I die, I want all my cool clothes worn thin. And I think you should, too.