I quite rudely suggested that in some convoluted way the coat was rightfully mine, and much to my surprise, he agreed. A scant few days later, it was on my doorstep. Thank you, Mr. M.
Immediately, I knew this was gonna make one hell of a kit with white pants, a navy tennis shirt, and of course, blaze orange boat shoes. Alas, after a few hours of trying in vain to ignore the truth, heartbreak finally took hold.
Heartbreak: the damn thing is just too long for me. Even expensive alterations won't help. Damn.
Paying It Forward: The coat is now in the hands of good friend Yankee Whiskey Papa. Besides being a WASP from coastal New England who knows a thing or two about actually sailing boats and the attendant fashions of such sport, he's taller than me. He also has a way of wearing such ridiculous clothing as though it were normal, and succeeding.
I suppose, in the long run, the cosmos is happy with the outcome.