The Nightmare Before Christmas

Like a relationship, your wardrobe often includes one key piece that keeps it all together - the glue, if you will. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you, the black blazer. On any given Saturday night, the black blazer can take you from "hell" to "hello" in a matter of minutes, with the search being called off for that finishing item of your outfit.

My black blazer, named YSL, short for Yves Saint Laurent, was one that I desperately tried not to rely on, for fear of its inevitable departure in the future. I alternated, between YSL, originally keeping it for significant events, to the more run-of-the-mill Zara tweed blazer, and sometimes, if I was tired of the sight of both, the reliable Navy Ralph.

My relationship with YSL, however, spiralled out of control before you could say "one of a kind". Soon, YSL and I were not only attending parties together, but also book launches, casual drinks and...GIGS. And like a relationship, when things are at the worst possible imaginable point, you expect, if it's going to end, it's going to end now, right? No. Not so.

YSL, I can assure you, was never left unattended at gigs. Never left over a seat at Landsdowne or sprawled along the grass at Phoenix Park. While I would happily subject my scruffy €45 denim jacket to this kind of treatment, YSL was worth more than that, not just in terms of money, but to me. I knew that it had a significant use, and while I didn't expect to take YSL out for all time, I certainly didn't forsee a parting in the near future.

Just like any significant other, an evening on the tiles can be unpredictable. When I agreed to meet a bunch of guys at a hotel bar in town for drinks, I didn't realise I was in turn agreeing to parttake in what would become "the night I lost YSL". It started like any other Saturday night. A couple of glasses of wine, relaxed house music, and catching up on the "who's who and what's new" front.

Of course, in today's world, or at least in Dublin, there are a variety of things to make and do, and we are not the kind to sit around for long without wanting to move on. Two hours later, at a late bar, with two more glasses of wine, I decided, it was indeed time that I took a trip to the little boys room. As we all know, sometimes, events aren't suitable for even our nearest and dearest, and so we have to go it alone.

On this occasion, I somehow felt that in the company of my guy friends, YSL would hardly notice my 3-minute disappearance. Unfortunately for me, I learned my lesson the hard way. No matter how attentive you are to your dearest, the minute you take your attention elsewhere, someone else is waiting to step in and wear what once belonged to you.

On my return from the little boys room, I discovered that without notice, my YSL blazer had left the building. Like those before it, it had moved on to new places, possibly in Dublin, possibly some place else. I would never know. And like those before it, not knowing was the hardest part.