It was during our December holiday in Hong Kong that my son became obsessed with the idea of owning a “Sherlock-style” coat.
The Sherlock being referred to here is the BBC television series, made wildly popular by the British actor Benedict Cumberbatch, whose wardrobe is dominated by a handsome coat that adds sophisticated flair to his goings-on as an intrepid detective.
Our first day in Hong Kong was, therefore, spent braving crowds of tourists as we shopped on Nathan Road. It was nearly nighttime when a purchase was finally made: a black, woollen affair that flapped majestically around our 14-year-old's knees. Calvin pulled it on immediately, promptly kicking off an episode that took me right back to his toddler days, when he grew attached to a Thomas the Tank Engine shirt and refused to take it off.
But when we visited, Hong Kong just wasn’t cold enough to warrant a heavy coat. At a balmy 22°C during daytime, it felt rather like Abu Dhabi during the pleasant months. Nevertheless, Calvin wore his new item of clothing – accessorised with a chic scarf, just like Sherlock – everywhere. There we were, my husband and I, clad in breathable cotton, enjoying the sun on our faces, while our teenager followed us around wrapped up to his eyebrows, much like the Hong Kongers around us, who, puzzlingly, were all kitted out in their most fashionable winter gear despite the warm climate.
But Calvin didn’t complain once, obstinately suffering through the sunny mornings as we chose top-deck seats on a Big Bus tour, walked the Tsim Sha Tsui promenade end to end, or stood in line for nearly 30 minutes to ride the tram up to Victoria Peak. That coat stubbornly stayed on, even when we demolished dim sum and bao platters in an overheated restaurant in Tsim Sha Tsui, and slurped up steaming beef brisket soup in a nondescript noodle shop in an alley off Temple Market.
Then, a cold spell fell upon the city. Suddenly, it was my husband and I who were uncomfortable, huddling together with eyes firmly shut on the Big Bus as it careered up and down the green hills of Stanley, the sharp wind knifing our meagrely clad bodies, while our son stayed toasty warm.
Later that night, as temperatures dropped further, our triumphant boy pretended not to gloat as we went on a freezing ferry ride across the harbour. He enjoyed every minute on that boat, even as the occasional ice-cold sea spray drenched his parents.
A week later, we arrived for the second leg of our holiday in oven-hot Bangkok. Finally accepting defeat in the face of 36°C and cloying humidity, Calvin mournfully allowed me to put the coat away.
But the hiatus was short-lived: now that we have returned to Abu Dhabi, the wretched thing is being put to spectacular use again, especially when we all sit down to watch the currently-on-air, fourth season of our favourite crime drama, Sherlock.