Today it is cold enough to wear my new winter coat, a gray peacoat.

After a wamer-than-average winter, everyone is eager to change their closets to sweaters and corduroy. Proving it, most people on the 2 train are a little too bundled for the temperature in the low 40s this morning.

I snake my way through the crowd on the train and hang on to the overhead bar. I feel as Sex and the City-sophisticated as I'll ever get — I'm reading The Atlantic Monthly. My hair is cooperating since the lower humidity has cut me a break. Maybe I've even lost a few pounds. A seat opens up and I decline — why sit when you've got the confidence only a new outfit can give you?

At the office a co-worker says, "I like your new coat."

"Thanks," I reply, a little confused. "How did you know it was new?"

"The price tag is still hanging from your armpit."

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