Love actually

Fall is hands-down my favourite season. I don't love what comes after it (the humourless, drawn-out winter), but there are a million autumnal pleasures to savour - most notably, the season's fashion.

I almost died when I saw this Smythe jacket in the Globe and Mail Style section this weekend: I have to have it! I shrieked, already piecing together the perfect outfits for casual shopping days, nights out, and weekdays at the office. I love the chunky hardware on the pockets and the loose, button-less style. It's so effortlessly chic and avant-garde that it's no wonder they called it The Left Bank blazer.

My heart was pounding and my hands got clammy when I saw the picture of the edgy jacket in the newspaper and I knew that could only mean love. I was falling in love - instantly, unconditionally - with the perfect image in front of me. This jacket is so me that seeing it for the first time was like looking in the mirror, like it was already part of my identity. It was the culmination of all my fashion prayers, flown down to earth from the sartorial heavens, just for me.

But my elated heart shattered when I read the fine print and saw the price tag: a horrifying $575.00. So not in the budget. When I realized I couldn't possess the object of my desire, I desired it a thousand times more. It consumed my thoughts and I lost my appetite because what good would eating do me if I couldn't do it in my Left Bank blazer?

I knew that like any dejected lover, I needed to move on. I inhaled deeply and assured myself that Club Monaco or H&M would have a rip-off version on the shelves in no time. But these imitations would hardly satisfy because I would always know that it was a copy and not the one for which I truly yearned.

Actually, just knowing that I can't have the original version has pretty much already ruined my entire season, before even a single leaf has turned.