I love my wool coat. I ordered it from Victoria's Secret before my business trip, knowing that it would be cold in Chicago. It's black, double-breasted,and falls just below the hips.
Now I know why sheep can live on top of the mountain without getting cold (or is that goats...?): I'm toasty warm in my wool coat. It's 20 degrees out this morning, yet my coat protects me from the weather like a warm glove protects your hands. Ahhhh. I love my wool coat.
What's that? Are you insinuating that because I'm vegetarian, I should not wear wool?
Lalalalala. I can't hear you, I'm too busy singing with my hands over my ears. My soft, warm, beautiful wool coat does NOT come from abused sheeps. No, my sheep are happy sheep. Friendly farmers clip their wool in the Spring while they happily munch on Sheep Chow. They frolick in the sunshine, secure in the knowledge that people like me are warm in their wool.
I love my wool coat. Don't ruin it for me. I have so little personal pleasure lately.
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