I think it is interesting (or might prove to be) to explore the relation between the empty school blazer found in the Georgetown home (with all it's accompanying loneliness) and the identity of the person who possessed the Paul Stuart coat before Milgrim.
I am not suggesting any connection between the two absent owners, I am merely interested in the way Gibson juxtaposes these two abandoned (or stolen) bits of self which wind up both inspiring Milgrim in some way.
These artifacts, removed from the host, still carry the pregnancy of that person's psyche (the book, the stern context of the coat's closet) and inform us about Milgrim in the ways in which he imposes or extracts meaning from them.
Gibson has always found a quiet poetry in the street's cast-off personal items, from floating shoals of Styrofoam to watches long forgotten by their owners and indeed by the histories in which they inhabited. His lyricism of objects, stripped bare from their original owners and recontextualized in those of another is a thread of common humanity I find poignant in a way that is subtle and oblique
Perhaps it is best described by the Turner box shop window Cayce sees, which I believe he refers to specifically as a kind of poetry himself.