Left in Stitches: A Satirical take on Fashion

Mr. No Umbrella Man


It was a summer storm that came out of nowhere. New Yorkers were ill-prepared, not even a coat to hold over their heads as they sprinted to nearby cover. That said, I happened to have an umbrella I was in the habit of carrying for this exact purpose. It was mini, just big enough to cover me and just small enough to fit in any bag. My Lo & Sons Seville tote is so roomy, though, I honestly forget it’s in there. Before I could shimmy it out from under my laptop, I noticed a man seeking cover under an overhang. So I did what any single woman would do in this case. I decided to forgo my umbrella.


Instead, I took the Hermès scarf I had scored on Fashionphile, and moved it from around my neck to cover my recently blown out hair. As the rain escalated to a downpour, I ducked under the overhang; just room enough for the two of us. He was tall, well-dressed and looked as if he was coming from the office, but seemingly unprepared for the weather. His stately Shinola watch made me think he had just left something important, maybe a meeting or with my luck, a date. We looked at each other and sheepishly laughed at the current situation.

“An umbrella would be nice right about now,” he said.

“You’re telling me. I have the best umbrella at home. It’s like holding a little bubble over me and yet here we are.”

“Hmmm, where from?”


“I’ll look into it.”

I thought to myself, maybe I’ll ask him to drinks?

“Ok, I’m braving it.”

“Nice to meet…”

He was already gone — which was probably just as well. He looked vaguely like the type of man who would give me the best three months of my life and then dump me for a blonde.

As the rain let up a bit, I too decided to brave the streets. I stepped off the curb only to fully submerge my coveted pair of MaryJane Ballet flats from Cole Haan in a puddle. I cursed to myself as I jumped back. Luckily, these shoes are too well-made to be ruined by one incident, although it turns out the same can’t be said for my mood.

I kept on my way, deciding I had earned a stop at Magnolia Bakery for banana pudding before catching the train. The light butter-like color of the pudding matched my dress perfectly. It was a rental from Nuuly but it was clear in that moment I’d need to buy it. There was something about this dress that just made everything fall right into place.

Digging in much like a kid making a sandcastle vs. an archaeologist making a discovery, I went all in on the pudding. Bursting with flavor, the taste reminded me of the feeling you get when opening a package you’ve been waiting for. You tear through the thick layers of tape and cardboard before immediately clipping, clasping, or zipping it into place. Then you stand in front of the mirror smiling, pleased with your past self for being wise enough to make the purchase, and thrilled with your current self for looking so darn good.

I was still thinking about my strange encounter with Mr. No Umbrella Man as I dipped down into the Rockefeller Center subway stop. Rather unaware of my surroundings, I stopped in front of my usual spot. I tilted my head to the right, taking note of the train time display.



To my left was Mr. No Umbrella Man, soaked and currently enjoying a large banana pudding. We shared a laugh and tapped our pudding cups in a makeshift “cheers.”

“I like your necklace by the way.”

He liked my necklace? The Kate Spade Victoria Pendant Necklace I’d stalked for months before finally purchasing?
He might as well have asked me to marry him — to be
Mrs. No Umbrella Man.

“Thanks, I like your cufflinks.”


“Nice.” I knew they were Esquire at first glance, but decided to hide my constant need to be right until at least the third date.

We rode uptown together; he got off in LIC and I continued on to Brooklyn. We exchanged numbers and he texted me later that day. Maybe my outfit did have magical powers
or maybe it was just the perfect storm, but it felt too good
to be true.

Within a week’s time we had our first date: dinner at a new spot in Greenpoint followed by banana pudding. I wore the fan-favorite necklace and my Cole Haan flats. We spent more time together over the months to come; we wined, dined, and I bought him his own ShedRain umbrella. And then just a little over three months in, he broke up with me for a blonde. In his defense, yellow is the color of the season. On the plus side, I hear there’s an unexpected rain storm later today, so you never know who I might meet.