The frontman for Pennsylvania punk nuts Pissed Jeans tells the tale of how he came to acquire his winter coat.
Hello, my name is Matt Korvette, and I'm here to talk fashion. A very select few of you may recognize my name from the punk band Pissed Jeans, a group to which vulgar, negative adjectives are considered praise. Sure, I may dance like a first-time drunk onstage, secreting heated fluids from more than one orifice, but every rocker has his or her soft spot — mine just happens to come in the form of a carefully-considered pima-cotton cashmere blend.
If that unusual juxtaposition hasn't already shattered your world, allow me to kick things off with the story of how I came to possess my winter coat. Last August, I was in the premiere New York menswear shop, Atelier, and came across a black shearling coat by the Lost & Found label. Ria Dunn is the designer, and while some of her garments come across a little too old-world peasant for my particular tastes, this coat grabbed me by the throat the moment I laid my eyes on it: insanely soft to the touch, the shearling leather resembles fresh blacktop, with a gaping hood to recall a bomb-testing bunker. Feeling anything but toasty warm while surrounded in its 100% lamb construction was clearly impossible. Alas, the price tag rivaled that of a Kia Sephia, and the coat remained a pie-in-the-sky dream.
Fast forward to October: a friend tipped me off to the same coat's presence on eBay, and he wasn't joking — there it was, in unworn condition, calling out like a siren. While significantly discounted, the coat remained tantalizingly and financially out of reach. Undeterred, I wrote the seller, and came to an agreement that, were it not to sell in his auction, would be mine at an even greater discount. And what do you know — no bids! It was a nerve-wracking time, watching the auction count down, but I made it to the other side unscathed. No one else stepped up to the plate. Now that the deal was in place, it was time to figure out how I was going to come up with the cash to actually afford it. Money, one of fashion's cruelest obstacles.
Knowing full well I didn't have that sort of buying power available, I looked to my vinyl records, and pulled out the prince of my collection — an original test pressing of the Faith / Void split LP, undoubtedly one of the greatest hardcore records of all time. I was pleased to call it my own, but after a number of years, it never did more than sit on my shelf, comforting me just by being there. I knew what I had to do, and took the LP online, where I managed to secure a reputable buyer. The bittersweet transaction was a success (I can probably go and visit the LP in its new home if I ever really need to), so I transferred my newly-acquired wealth as quickly as possible to the coat's owner, lest I do something foolish like put it into a savings account. The coat arrived less than a week later, and I've had it on ever since — I feel like an armored, gothic sheep while wearing it, and when the hood's up, I can hardly hear a thing. Sensory deprivation never felt so good.