Question: When is a winter coat like a dinosaur?

When I wear my coat, I'm Marilyn Monroe; I'm Audrey Hepburn. And then ...

I have this coat. It's long, black, and beautiful. A "find" at the Goodwill for $20. It's a vintage winter coat from the 1940s with an oversized collar that, when flipped up and held at your chin, encircles your face like the petals of a flower.

When I wear my coat, I'm exotic: I'm Marilyn Monroe; I'm Audrey Hepburn.

I hear the flashbulbs of the paparazzi, my bodyguards are moving me to my limo, I'm about to wave to my fans, and then ... like the tear of a needle across a record album, it all ends.

Herein lies the fatal flaw of this coat: the arms. For some reason, the sleeves were cut so that the armpits are nowhere near my actual armpits but come more from the area of my waist. When I wear my coat, I find myself unable to lift my arms beyond half-mast. Like the Tyrannosaurus Rex with its tiny, helpless dinosaur arms, I can only wiggle them ineffectually from side to side.

I can't drive; can't wave; can't even get my arms up high enough to put on my seat belt. If someone gives me a hug, all I can do is stand there like a passionless nothing - my arms are pinned to my sides. You might say, "Why would anyone wear such a coat?"

And the answer is, of course: "Because it's just ... that ... gorgeous."

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.