A house, 6 coats, and why it matters
My house is 108 years old, and a true charmer. A former apple barn, it’s nestled deep off a busy street, just a mile from a beautiful lake and various shopping areas, and less than 10 miles from an urban downtown. We have lilacs, a huge oak, two apple trees and a birch—its peaceful and perfect for our family. But as much as we have grown to adore the sunniness captured inside our almost 1500 square feet, and all the awesomeness just outside our front door, we didn’t so much buy a house—we bought a neighborhood.
We live in an affluent town, filled with affluent people, and together we help fund amazing schools. We are lucky to be in one town, just across the street from another, and a few blocks from yet another. It’s like we get to live in three amazing and vibrant cities. Lucky us, we are totally winning!
What makes our little house unique is that it would be considered expensive for some cities and states, yet for some reason (actually there are many), where we planted roots homes are much more expensive. We bought what I lovingly refer to as the last affordable house in town. With the current housing trend in our neighborhood we are simply grateful that we squeaked in before all the affordable houses were demolished and sold to builders to pave the way for much larger homes. Literally pave. See, we don’t live in an area where people buy houses and live in them. We live in an area where people buy houses—to build other houses.
Yet the most amazing thing about my house, the one confusing to realtors and appraisers alike, because there are no remaining homes to comp it to—the most amazing thing about my little house is that it is worth 6 of the First Lady’s flowery coats. Six.
For years people on both sides of our dysfunctional political machine have harped on the outrageous prices of the ball gowns and every day attire of our First Ladies. It always seemed like a waste of time, breath and print really, because both sides occasionally made the mistake of choosing clothing that seemed at odds with practical Americans. It all seemed so vapid, and still we heard about it ad nauseum.
Yet here we sit, with swirling debate about millions of hardworking Americans losing healthcare, and no new jobs magically appearing (jobs with adequate salaries to raise a family, buy a home, and PAY for insurance), and the FLOTUS shows up in the news wearing a $51,000 coat. Same story, but with more at stake. Her coat, beautifully resting on her eloquent shoulders like a colorful prop, costs more than many Americans take home in a year. A years worth of work, for a coat. My house would cost six coats. If we scrapped together enough to build a family room and a bathroom on the main floor, we’d need another two coats. Maybe four. And we’d likely need a loan to make it happen. Who am I fooling, we’d definitely need a loan. It’s craziness. And it’s being put out there for all of us to take in, and somehow get comfortable with.
Honestly, it’s not what the coat means to me that matters, it’s what the coat doesn’t mean to the first family that really speaks volumes. How could they ever understand the every day struggles of the working class, when the things they buy are so out of reach for most people? I can’t even fault them for their disconnect, as it is so vast that they literally have no idea why paying $500 a month/person for insurance is not possible for so many who are working hard, yet getting nowhere.
A college education doesn’t guarantee you a $51,000 coat. A good job doesn’t guarantee you a $51,000 coat. The right connections don’t even guarantee you a $51,000 coat. But an education, a good job, and a few connections should at least guarantee you access to a home, a proper insurance policy, and time to enjoy a full life. Ordinary people are not in search of a flowery coat, or a bigger closet to put it in, they are simply hoping to live a decent life.
At the end of the day, it’s just a coat. I know this. And if you can really afford it, then go ahead and buy it, wear it, enjoy it, then throw it on the closet floor without a worry after a long and tiring day. But know that when you buy that kind of coat, and wear it on the world stage, it means something different to just about everyone who sees it.
My advice to the FLOTUS is simple, tone it down just a notch or two. You could have almost gotten away with a $20,000 coat, because that is aspirational, not outrageous. Wear the $50,000 pieces to dinner with friends, just not on official business. Trust me, it would sit better with pretty much everyone. We get it, you can afford it. But when all eyes are on you, choose accordingly. And one more bit of advice, maybe consider a $51,000 donation to Coats for Kids. Because watching you work to help a 1,000 children stay warm when temperatures hit -10, would just feel, and look, better.
Melania, if you ever want to get a glimpse of what it’s like to actually live in middle America, come visit me. We can grab coffee, I’ll give you the two minute tour of my house, and we can discuss what life is like for regular educated folks in America. Consider me your Midwest consultant. And if you are afraid of visiting a six coat house, I have friends with 18 and 30 coat houses, so if you’d be more comfortable with better countertops and more square feet, I’m sure they’d host a meet and greet. Just have your driver bring you in an Odyssey, or I suppose a Tesla, and maybe consider wearing jeans. Because even in my affluent town, my guess is you’d stand out in the crowd. Please know that I’m not asking you to be someone other than yourself, I’m just inviting you to see a part of the world you are unfamiliar with. And since it sometimes appears you don’t relish all the attention, I’m simply offering an opportunity to leave the costumes at home.
At the end of the day we all live somewhere, and wear clothes that fit our lifestyles. It just seems that living in 2017 requires new math, and that a coat is no longer a simple garment to keep us warm—rather a statement. One lovely coat is now worth the same as a down payment for a house, a modest inheritance left by a frugal grandmother who died before her medical bills and nursing home had the chance to drain her savings, 1,000 coats for cold kids, a scholarship for almost a year’s tuition at a prestigious college, or a new Lexus. When put in perspective, it just seems crazy.
And in this crazy world, I’ve never been more grateful for my little barn, in my little slice of the universe. Sure, I’d love a few coats to finance an addition or put aside for retirement, but until I magically find a few at a yard sale, or posted on Craigslist by an unknowing spouse, I’ll take my little house over a fancy closet filled with gold. It suits me, and feels like home.
