I think puffer jackets are hideous. There, I said it. During a time where wearing an over-sized puffer jacket with a pair of bike shorts is somehow trendy and cool, I feel personally victimised.
First, it’s the texture of these cursed concoctions. I don’t care that some of them are made from recycled plastic. Good for the environment maybe, but the thought of brushing my fingers against that slick, crinkly surface makes my spine curl so intensely even my scoliosis is like “dude, wtf?”
It reminds me of when kids would scratch their fingers against those awful plastic folders in school and everyone in a 15 metre radius would immediately curl into a ball and wail.
And then there’s the fact that because I don’t look like Bella Hadid, puffer jackets have me resembling a rancid marshmallow. Have you ever seen someone in a puffer jacket who doesn’t look like the Michelin man? Sure he’s an icon, but not the fashion kind.
My now-boyfriend once owned a puffer jacket. Bright red. Ankle length. He wore it to one of our dates before we were together, and I had no warning of the jumpscare.
In the one evening he wore it, we were approached by four strangers, one of which was a “can I get a hug” man who I had never met before in my life. Do you see what kind of cursed energy these things harbour?
He has since tossed the puffer away into oblivion (read: the bottom of his dresser), never to be seen again. And you know what? We’ve never been happier. More effective than an exorcism.
Now, look: do I think no one should wear them ever? No. Puffer jackets are practical AF. They have their uses.
They look kinda warm (I refuse to wear one so cannot confirm this) and I approach them the same way I approach Crocs: useful for specific outdoor environments. Probably a good thing for kids to wear since they need something comfy. Ugly so you don’t feel precious about ruining it during arduous tasks.
But for me? Who values looking cute 24/7 and only accepts positive energy into my life? No thank you.
