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My l4-year-old son, John, and I spotted the coat simultaneously. It was hanging on a rack at a secondhand clothing store in Northampton Mass, crammed in with shoddy trench coats and an assortment of sad, woolen overcoats -- a rose among thorns. 在马萨诸塞州北安普顿市的一家出售二手服装的店里，我和我14岁的儿子约翰同时盯上了那件大衣。它就挂在衣架上，夹在劣质的军用风雨衣和各式各样寒酸的羊毛大衣当中，然而它却像荆棘丛中的一朵玫瑰。 While the other coats drooped, this one looked as if it were holding itself up. The thick, black wool of the double-breasted chesterfield was soft and unworn, as though it had been preserved in mothballs for years in dead old Uncle Henrys steamer trunk. The c