Bomber jacket: Boston
Last time I was in Florence, a friend and I found a perfect leather jacket in a little shop. It was perfect on him. Whenever he shrugged into the jacket he was immediately transformed into Wolverine...well, not exactly Wolverine, but it was one of those bad-ass jackets. He looked so dashing and would strut his stuff whenever he wore it. A month later, after a delicious dinner at Sibling Rivalry, he left it on the Red Line. Can you believe it? It's too bad really.