Why I Wish I Could Wear a Cloak (2024)

And why nobody ever should.

Imagine it’s a cool, cloudy fall day. You’re walking along a dirt path in the middle of deep woods. The leaves fall and swirl around your feet and your cloak flutters behind you.

You come to a small clearing. There is a large shelf of rock sticking out of the hill on the far side of the clearing. You make your way to the rocky shelf and begin preparations for a small fire. Once the fire is burning bright, a misty drizzle starts. You move back beneath the shelter of the rock and pull your warm, woolen cloak tight around you. You pull the hood over your head and watch the fire crackle and sputter as the fine drops of water meet the heat of the flames.

A noise at the other side of the clearing draws your attention and two travelers appear from the trees, walking the path you’ve just left. You leap up and try to put out the fire, kicking wet leaves and dirt to smother the flame.

The travelers stop and stare at you as you extinguish the fire. After all, the state park doesn’t allow fires outside of the designated charcoal barbecue grills.

You suddenly become aware that the two travelers are wearing LL Bean jackets and chunky hiking shoes and that you’re standing in the middle of a clearing in the park wearing a wool cloak over your favorite graphic tee.

Let’s face it, if you’ve ever read The Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, or A Song of Ice and Fire, or if you’ve watched the corresponding films and TV show, you’ve probably considered the possibility of wearing a cloak. Maybe it’s just me, but I have a sneaky feeling that there’s at least one or two other people who would want to wear a cloak.

A cloak is literally a blanket with a hood that you wear. You are constantly wearing your favorite blanket, ready to get cozy and warm at a moment’s notice. It can protect you from the rain and the cold and even hide you from life’s more difficult moments (like when your boss is yelling at you or when you have to pay bills or when a teenager makes eye contact with you on the street) when you just want to curl up under a blanket and be forgotten. And let’s not forget the awesome swish you get when you turn a corner really fast and throw the cloak dramatically.

Cloaks are an awesome article of clothing and I’d love to be able to wear one… everyday.

But I don’t.

Because it’s weird — really, really, really weird.

Wearing weird clothes is actually an awesome thing. If you can pull off something weird and exciting, I say go for it. But never wear a cloak.

Cloaks aren’t cool-weird, they’re weird-weird. Cloaks make people think you’re in a cult, or worse, that you’re totally out of touch with humanity.

Cloaks, despite their awesome qualities, are fairly pointless. Coats and jackets serve the purposes of cloaks much more efficiently and fashionably. Coats and jackets even, sometimes, come with warm hoods, truly making cloaks obsolete. So, if you want to wear a cloak, do like I do and push that impulse deep, deep down and cover it up by buying many, many jackets of varying types, styles, materials, and lengths. A jacket won’t totally replace your cloaked desires, but they will give you some relief.

If jackets aren’t doing it for you, there are some alternatives, though:

• Make sure your Halloween costume requires a cloak every year. This gives you, at least, one or two days of cloak wearing without (too much) judgment.
• Wear your cloak round the house like a bathrobe. Spend lazy Sunday mornings (and afternoons and evenings) wrapped up in your cozy cloak. If you have a large, private property, you can even wear your cloak outside.
• Go to events where people do cosplay. There will be others in cloaks and you can blend in.
• Attend renaissance fairs where cloak wearing is generally accepted.
• Become an actor and only accept fantasy roles and period pieces where cloak wearing is required.

One great alternative to cloak-wearing is finding a long overcoat that will make a good substitute for your cloak.