Hey, you smokers. Specifically, the smokers who attended the Miles Bonny DJ event Feel Sexy at the Hangout on a recent snowy Saturday. I wore my favorite winter coat out that night. It's quilted, red, down-feather-filled a sale garment at Ann Taylor, but still
. I did briefly consider the fact that fun nights out don't necessarily always agree with one's favorite wardrobe items. They get smelly, thanks to you, smokers. I hung my red coat up with care on one of the coat racks farthest from the dance floor. Apparently, that wasn't far away enough for you smokers who sat on the red Naugahyde booths near the coat racks. You must have carried on some serious conversation. It was enough, apparently, that white-hot embers of cigarette ash flew onto my favorite coat, burning two holes in the outer lining. I have forever learned my lesson: Show up to bars dressed like shit so that you can't ruin some of my favorite things. Hey, smokers, hurry up with that cancer already.