He laughed when he saw it in the thrift store. He couldn't believe it, an actual greaser jacket from the 50s. Still in good condition, previously owned.
He bought it for cheap, planning to wear it as a joke or for a halloween costume. As he pulled it on while walking home, though, he started to feel strange. Something within the jacket seemed to flow out into him, filling his mind and making him want to comb back his hair, to strut cockily, to be a greaser thug.
With each step, his body shifted and stretched. His face pushing out into a muzzle, his hair slicking back. He felt his personality and identity changing. He wanted his gang back. He wanted to be the way he was before, and he was going to need to find some new members to join him. The grease wolves were back, baby.