The only object of interest in the abomination known as Blade Runner 2049 is K’s resolutely antitechnological shearling-collared overcoat. (It’s all non-leather.)
K’s coat isn’t merely “cool” but tactile. Technology will collapse distance and even time, but the gap between you and your clothing was uncollapsible yea unto the Middle Ages and will stay that way. It is a calculus exercise in determining just how close to zero is the distance between your skin and your clothing. Pace W. Gibson, there will always be bicycle couriers in a technological future, because somebody will always need a birthday cake or an Academy Award pedalled across town. Your neck will always need a collar, and you will need to feel it.
As with Bane’s overcoat, which, after the manner of Alkali, Iowa, I misremembered as sitting over Tom Hardy’s shirtless torso, K’s overcoat continues a pattern of rebuke of THX 1138 jumpsuits and Star Trek pocketless raglan velour. It’s always overcoats doing the rebuking.
(Gallery; but cf. Chris Evans’ eyes.)