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“She wore what she was told without argument, apart from a long, drab mackintosh that she loathed,” Crawford wrote in her controversial memoir, “The Little Princesses.”

She closed the stove door with a bang, and approaching, assisted in removing Edna’s dripping mackintosh.

She was doing a fellowship at the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Costume Institute in the mid-2010s when she saw a red mackintosh from the 1960s.

As you might sense, Ireland’s own James Joyce lurks in the corners of such prose, like the mysterious man in the mackintosh of “Ulysses.”

He came towards me though, he began to help me off with my mackintosh.