The day comes when it no longer looks cool.

I am pretty sure that I was up to some mischief on this autumn day:

Evanston, Illinois, November 1979. I stand in the parking lot adjacent to my apartment. I am wearing my favorite Annie Hall sunglasses and cargo pants. My hair is permed. My Mom knitted the lovely fair-isle yoked sweater. It was charcoal, and the pattern ran in white and shades of blue.