Dances with Coat Closets
Things that get left behind.. and for goodness sake architects, please design much larger coat closets for homes in cold climates..
One of my pre-party rituals every Friday afternoon was removing all the coats from my downstairs coat closet, and hiding them on the empty guest bed upstairs to make room for that evening’s onslaught of coats, sweaters and scarves.
The miserly coat closet provided for my 1980s four bedroom home in a rainy city holds just a broom and a mop; a basket of spare mittens and gloves; a couple pairs of rain boots and snow boots, our three not-currently-in-use seasonal “Welcome” door mats; and our coats.
My boyfriend and I each have a winter heavy coat apiece; a rain slicker or two each; a “dog park” coat; his hiking coat and my “theater” coat; His and Hers fleece jackets; a down coat each; and a medium weight “nice” coat for each. Those are all crammed in and difficult to retrieve when one is in a hurry.
Now that our coats have been removed, we have room for approximately ten guests’ coats — but our parties are normally for fifteen or sixteen people. The extra coats from stragglers and latecomers get folded over a rail or over one of my couches.
Another problem is that of storing guests’ shoes — it’s the custom in my city for guests to remove shoes upon entering the front door. We don’t leave them outside like in Asian countries, and we don’t provide slippers for guests like Asians would. Guests are meant to plan ahead to wear socks or bring their own socks to change into.
The Harried Hostess is quite tired of oblivious guests (usually, regrettably, the male guests with the largest shoe size) removing their shoes and leaving them immediately in the path of the doorway — totally ignoring the provided shoe rack or the neat pile of shoes shoved to the side — and putting the next guest in the door at risk of tripping.
One would think that when it’s dark, cold and rainy outside, guests would, upon opening my front door for their departure, realize they’d forgotten their coat in the coat closet or left draped over furniture. But without fail, every fall/winter party I’ve thrown results in one coat being left behind (don’t get me started on cell phones, handbags, keys or scarf stories!) Late that night after the coat-losing guest arrives home, a frantic flurry of texts arrives, and we must plan for them to stop by and retrieve their coat the next morning before their workday or their weekend adventures.
I’ve ended up with two “mystery coats” every year, which are donated every Christmastime to the local shelter.
In the not-so-olden days, guests would be greeted at the door by the host, who would greet guests, take their coats, hang them up, and usher the guests to a comfy seat by the fire, then make them a cocktail. The hostess would be doing her thing in the kitchen, preparing to bring out a tray of hot appetizers to pass around. Nowadays, with our open floor plans and current preference to enter the kitchen and participate in the cooking, guests often skip the greeting and de-coating ritual. I’ve had coats flung all over my kitchen, falling onto the floor and being trodden on by dogs, or draped over barstools.
The Harried Hostess was guilty of once upon a time leaving her (only) coat at a fancy mansion during a funeral reception. The day grew warmer and nicer, and the funeral was distressing and distracted her, and she drove off without her coat. How embarrassing to inconvenience the mansion owner’s maid the next day! How distressing to shiver on the bus in hastily layered sweaters, waiting to get off work to go retrieve her coat. Lesson learned — pay attention to the whereabouts of our necessary belongings!
The rudest thing I ever witnessed at another host’s party was The Man Who Thought His Wife’s Coat Was More Important/Valuable Than Everyone Else’s. It happened at a festive Christmas party at a four story stone mansion that looked like a castle. The guests all lived in a small town and attended the same church. Everyone was excited to attend (possibly just to scope out the lavish house) and the coat closet filled up quickly. I was helping the host answer the door, greet guests, and put the coats away. We started having to pile coats carefully upon an antique velvet couch next to the coat closet. Rude Showoff Man (a lawyer who liked to show off fancy cars and wear far too much glitzy jewelry) brought his wife’s lovely but not too expensive faux fur coat to me. I greeted him and carefully laid it on the couch on top of someone else’s leather coat.
“Oh no,” he said, “This one has to hang up.” I explained the coat closet was full. He shocked me by reaching rudely past me, grabbing someone else’s coat off a hanger, and placing that coat upon the pile. He then hung his wife’s coat up and walked away. I was too stunned to think of anything to say (of course a hundred witty comebacks came to me later after the party was over).
As soon as he was out of the room, I replaced the original guest’s coat back on the hanger, and, oops, clumsy me, his wife’s coat hit the floor behind the velvet couch! (Shame on me — you’ll perhaps extend me some grace as I was in my early twenties at the time). Happy to report that the wife (a lovely and kind person) came to her senses, divorced him, and hopefully learned a lesson about not dating the flashiest showoff in town.
May your coat closet be large and may your guests remember to collect all their belongings at the end of the evening!
-The Harried Hostess
