Children have always known: Concentrate hard enough (and in secret) and you will be able to fly. Really.
That dream ended when it suddenly became true.
People were able to fly anytime, anywhere. Without even concentrating. They just bought a ticket.
Today we might as well be taking the bus.
Today what we can’t seem to do is soar.
The way flying used to be, then, at the beginning — that, now, is a dream. P-38s, Wacos, Stearmans, Stinsons, Mustangs, Spitfires, will all soon be collected like blue-period Picassos.
The flight jacket of those days persists; it got better with time; then, in the mid-forties it became actually great.
This is as close to one of those as you can get. It rings true.
No flashiness. Five hand-finished hides (lambskins) go into it.
It has the sweet, serious, mysterious aroma of real leather, of old leather library chairs in a room in Rome. The aroma goes with you where you go, like a companion. And it lasts.
Lambskin Flight Jacket (No. 1970), with plenty of pockets, and located correctly. Brass zippers. Thick cotton-blend rib trim. Gusseted back. Fully lined. Warm, handsome, comfortable.
And exciting to own.
Men’s sizes: S, M, L, XL, XXL.
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