…that the perfect vintage motorcycle jacket is impossible to find.

Posted by Charlotte on August 30th, 2008 filed in Fashion

I should know. I’ve been looking for over a year. What I’m looking for is a cropped jacket that comes down to my midriff; soft leather that has aged well; a small size that hugs my shoulders and that I can just about do up, with zips and fastenings that have dulled over time. Something I can wear over an LBD without looking like I’m auditioning for Grease or waiting for the Fonz to pick me up.

I can categorically state that London has no such jacket, unless I settle for a giant Harley Davidson motif on the back, or some rodeo fringing on the arms, or worse. The vintage shops have a few Terminator-like biker jackets for men, and when they do get them for women they are those batwing, wide-shouldered 80s monstrosities as modelled by Samantha Fox in her heyday.

These jackets are now incredibly fashionable, but I don’t want the Topshop one that Alexa Chung has, or the Belstaff one she wore to Glasto – too butch. Zara did an okay take on one but it wasn’t the real deal. The Balenciaga may cost about the same as my last car but if I wear it every day for the next year it’s the equivalent of a daily meal at Pret. Unfortunately my husband doesn’t do CPW (cost-per-wear) just GFD (grounds-for-divorce).

What I really want is a broken-in biker jacket with character, is that too much to ask?  eBay is my only hope, I realise. I missed a couple of nice ones at the beginning of the year which went for hundreds at the last minute, which only serves to highlight the scarcity of the matter.

Then last month the search was over. I’d found it. Beautiful she was, just beeeoootiful. Patina perfectly aged. Small, for sure it would be small. I mean, I really should have inferred from the words “Punk Baby” in the title that it was going to be small, but the measurements seemed ok. I didn’t even wait till the end of the auction I Bought It Now I paid I told the US seller to hurry hurry HURRY for Paypal God’s sake get it to me quick..

When it arrived I ripped open the packet and out came this version of my ideal motorcycle jacket but in miniature. It really was punk baby. The cutest thing. And its dimensions were inversely proportional to how much I wanted it to fit me. I split a seam trying to squeeze it on even though, like an old ugly sister, I knew the Cinderella moment had long since passed. Seven, eight years old: no problem. Thirty: no chance. Only reality goes out of fashion….take it from me.

NB. It’s worth noting that at seven years old I would never have worn this jacket. I would have judged it to be what a Bros-ette would wear, and I hated Bros. If you’d have given this to me for Christmas I’d have cried.