My Magic Raincoat

How It All Began

My husband and I spent many a rainy day in Vancouver visiting our eldest daughter and her family. We always chose November so we could celebrate one grandson’s birthday. I borrowed rain gear but gently complained about the lack of style. My daughter mentioned a company called RainSisters that she thought I would love. We took time to look, but I never considered purchasing from them. I was reluctant to order online, and being a shorter woman, I was convinced the gorgeous coats would never fit me. 

For some reason, in the spring of 2026, a Rainsisters ad appeared on my Instagram page. The models were tall, willowy ladies who twirled and moved with elegance, showing off the gorgeous satin linings and colourful printed fabrics. I couldn’t stop thinking about one coat with a scarlet satin lining. It was black, printed with red strawberries, and the hood framed the model’s face beautifully. 

The site had hundreds of 5-star reviews and positive customer comments. People posted videos of themselves opening packages and trying on their new RainSisters apparel. Women of all ages twirled like young children as soon as they put their new coats on. Everyone was shocked by how many compliments they received from friends, family, and strangers.  

Later that spring, we went on a cruise to Norway, and the weather was damp and chilly. One day on a tour in Tallinn, Estonia, our guide arrived wearing a RainSisters coat. She posed with me for a photo, and we discussed sizing. She told me RainSisters makes coats in petites and I would need to shop there. 

After we returned home to Canada, I noticed the price of my fanciful coat had dropped. I placed my order. I sent the requested measurements and ordered the suggested petite size. This company is in Latvia but has a Canadian division. Still, I expected to wait weeks for delivery. 

The Coat Arrives, and the Twirling Begins

To my surprise, the package arrived within a week. I was afraid to open it, so I waited until after dinner. Quietly, I opened the box in my room. Slowly, I held the garment up and took in the gorgeous print, the rich lining, and the full skirt. The sewing was perfect. It was as beautifully made as fine garments were in the 1950s. I slid into the coat, fastened the snaps, and twirled as only an old lady with the heart of a child can do. It is impossible to stand still in it. We were travelling to Victoria in a few days, and I knew I would wear the coat. 

A Terrible Turn of Events

I wore the new coat to the airport for our flight a few days later. We were going to see our grandsons in Victoria. In the airport, I received many compliments. One lady offered to take our photo because she loved my coat. As I boarded the plane, even the stewardess told me she loved it. 

On board, I slid into the seat by the window. Gord sat beside me, and that left an aisle seat open. When our third traveller arrived, he mentioned his ticket was for the window seat, but he was fine with the aisle if I was happy. I was happy about everything on that morning! I loved my new coat. 

We were to change planes in Calgary, and in no time, we landed and waited for our exit. I stood to stretch my legs and straighten my coat. My hand slid down the back of the skirt and felt something slimy. To my horror, I was attached to the seat by a long thread of gooey gum. I gasped audibly and began to feel sick. I heard my voice wail, “Oh no – not on my new coat!” The man in the aisle seat that I was supposed to occupy told me I saved his pants. 

It wasn’t going to come off without an effort. I pulled and twisted the goo with my bare hands, finally breaking the string of gum that held me captive. People handed me Kleenexes and wet wipes, mumbling condolences the whole time. I told my husband I needed to cover the gum on my coat with a piece of plastic or foil so I could get into the terminal without sticking to something else. Then I would need ice, and lots of it. 

The man behind me offered me a gum wrapper, apologetically. He acknowledged it was likely the last thing I wanted to see, but it would cover the gum and peel off easily when the removal process began. 

 

My husband found me a seat with room to work on the gum. He brought a bag of ice from a nearby bar. I took off my coat and began freezing and scraping the gum. As I worked, I cried on the inside, but I think I appeared calm. This gum held like Crazy Glue, but it stayed gooey and stringy. The smell was still nauseatingly minty fresh, and I wondered who tucked it under the arm of an airplane seat. 

By the time we boarded the plane for the next short portion of our trip, I had most of the gum off. A whitish, powdery area remained, along with a few flecks of gum. I would deal with those when I returned to Saskatoon. 

I was regaining my happy mood. I would see my grandsons soon. I reached over, took my husband’s hand, and gave him a smile. Life is good. I was fine.

As we went to pick up our rental car, I started getting compliments. “I love your coat.” “Is it a dress, or a coat?”  “I love your style.” Then the Hertz man said, “Have a great day, ma’am. I love your jacket.”

We settled into our hotel, went to the dining room for dinner and went to bed early. We collected our grandson from work the next day and caught up on his news. That was the first of several fun days. My grandson began counting the compliments I received on my coat. One lady stopped me in the middle of the street as we crossed a controlled intersection. She continued talking to me over her shoulder as we walked in opposite directions. 

When my grandson hit the 40 compliments mark, we laughed in amazement. The strawberry raincoat is windproof, waterproof, warm but not too warm, and it’s a feel-good piece. It has magic in it, and it makes me happy, rain or shine. Cheers to RainSisters! 

Never Let Your Guard Down

On the last lap of our return flight, the lady in the aisle seat beside me behaved in an unusual manner. She read her book desperately, clutching it tightly, and chain-chewed gum. She added pieces to her mouth without emptying it, and then she took out a gob and stuck it on a napkin. It smelled nauseatingly minty. It was sticky but runny, and there was a lot of it. She completed a package and reached into her purse for another package, almost dropping the napkin off her lap. And then a question entered my brain. Had she flown to Calgary a few days ago? I offered an empty coffee cup to hold her chewed pieces. She thanked me and confided that she was a nervous flier. I stayed alert for the short flight and kept my eye on her gum, because this time I would keep my coat clean and my mood joyful.