The late English poet Jenny Joseph spawned a movement when she wrote, “When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple / with a red hat that doesn’t go.” The poem is one about how women, as they age, are inspired to shed the tethers of responsibility and respectability to go big and bright and audaciously bold, in dress and deed.

There are now societies of “red hatters” (228 chapters in my Canadian province of Ontario alone) who describe themselves as “a playgroup for women created to connect like-minded women, make new friends and enrich lives through the power of fun and friendship.”

So when it came time for me to buy a winter coat a couple years ago – the corporately respectable standard-issue knee-length black cloth coat still serviceable, but my shorter winter coat completely pooched – I thought it might be nice to get a pop of colour in the exterior wardrobe.

A Toronto friend put me on to Lorne’s Coats on Spadina Avenue and awaiting were a range of coat styles, some made in Canada, and almost all available in a rainbow of colours.

At first, I gravitated toward the colour of the coat I was replacing – a soft, pale blue –but decided to try on a few of the others, for comparison.

Orange hasn’t been a wardrobe staple for me, in the past, but the orange version of this coat somehow just felt right. Cheerful. Someone else might call it “construction site vest orange.” I called it sold.

What does one wear with an orange coat? Black gloves and hats veer into Hallowe’en territory, a fine thing at end of October, but not so fun for the rest of the year. It’s surprising, I’ve discovered, what can go with an orange coat: a grey hat, grey scarf with red-and-orange threads, and red gloves. Turquoise makes a nice contrast. However, after buying this orange coat, I hit the jackpot on a visit to the One of a Kind Show & Sale – the live version of Etsy, where row upon row of makers and crafters sell their wares.

One woman was selling hats: not your standard tuques or berets or even Nordic-inspired ones with pointy tops and tie-down flaps. These were different, in all manner of colours, jaunty in style, with the added bonus of a discreet, snug fitting earband that descended from the hat to actually keep ears, as well as head, warm. The vendor’s name is lost in the jumble of my memory, but I was wearing the orange coat that day and she brought over the orange hat you see in the photo with this post. “Perfect!” she said.

For two years now, on days when the temperature is cold but not frigid (there’s an ugly puffy coat with hood for those), I’m in the orange coat. A photo of me in that coat launched this blog with my first post of my Canada 150 series, My Canada, 1/150: The Elora Gorge. And I say with utter confidence that I have received more positive comments and compliments on the orange coat than any other piece of clothing I’ve worn in my life.

The comments come from women, often young ones. I live in Toronto, where people have taken studious non-communication and silence to an art form on our transit system. But at least once a week, some woman looks at me on a bus, a subway car or even walking on the street and says, “I love your coat.” It is April 19 as I write this and an unseasonable spate of cold weather has meant the orange coat is still in service, even though it desperately needs a restorative spa at my local dry cleaners. Yesterday, a young woman with coffee-with-cream-coloured skin, her big eyes framed by her hijab, looked up and me and said, “I love your outfit. I love the orange.”

Why does orange make women happy? Colour theory guides are about as helpful as astrology columns when it comes to agreeing on what emotions various colours evoke. My unscientific take is that women see this rounding-the-racetrack-bend woman in an orange coat and they go, good for you. Good for you for wearing something other than black or grey. Maybe when I’m your age, I’ll have the guts to do so, too.