Super cute! But I'll tell you why it was in a consignment on the West Coast...
I'll tell you with a little story:
When I lived in Victoria years ago I was a poor ajunct, single mom, so when winter came around I wore what I could find, and that year it was my deceased grandmother's coat which happened to showcase a hoodie lined with real wool. Handy, I thought, as the harsh ocean wind wiped the coast with its dreery cool metallic raindrops... as Tom Robbins so well puts it (and by the way now that you are there if you haven't read Still Life with Woodpecker I warmly recommend for a complete Seattle grand welcome or simply life-saving clutch to go through the rainy season): "It was autumn, the springtime of death. Rain spattered the rotting leaves, and a wild wind wailed. Death was singing in the shower. Death was happy to be alive".
So. Just to be clear: I was a university adjunct doing my doctorate (=poor, double poor) in literature (triple poor) with a little one to take care of on my own (quadruple poor), and protected myself from the elements with the only alternative to a dreadful parka with no personality previously used by my brother and on the brinks of being too worn out for donation: the only thing I could afford, something that was available for free. It was a bit big -of course, the story of my life- it was meant for someone else but it still fit and it was warm enough.
Here I was, naively walking around with my French grandma symbol of death on my back, and, crossing the streets, making my way around town, I got accosted, pushed, slapped, yelled at by total strangers because I was wearing... CRUELTY! I got verbally abused with no concerns for respect, by people who otherwise looked very respectable themseves.
If your cuffs are removable, you might want to do that. However my story took lace in the early 2000. Maybe now with the advent of faux fur you're safe. Still, I wanr=ted to warn you. This was an aspect of culture shock to me.