You can't buy style

you say? 
Well I beg to differ. As I was cruising down the highway between Austin and Dallas-Fort Worth, I spotted this roadside shack (conditioned like billions of other little Homo Sapiens to focus on the classic Coca-Cola sign). 
Instinct told me that continuing on my journey would be a tragic mistake. Tragedy was averted with a swift U-turn and much roaring of the rented V8 engine (it might have been any other number of cylinders in a V formation, or otherwise, I never looked under the bonnet). 
Within less than 3 minutes both Mrs Raheny (to be) and I fell in love with items that definitely merited another lease of life. An Afghan coat with a genuine wool collar barely eaten by moth for her and an American 70s soft grey leather jack for me.

Sometimes one need to heed the call of destiny. 

PS: I tried to sell them my mate Jonathan Levi but they would have none of it, the lying bastards.