For the first 18 years of my life, I lived in Florida--a place where "bundling up" meant putting on a shirt with sleeves. On those rare and fleeting occasions in which the temperature actually dropped below 65 degrees, people became practically giddy, rushing to the attic to unearth their circa 1982 ski parkas. When we would turn on the heat in our house (about twice a year), we'd be greeted by the aroma of singed dust wafting through the vents.
Before coming to the University, I recalled such memories with cynicism. Today, I offer them to you with an attitude steeped in wistful nostalgia. As I sit in my room clad in wool pants, wool socks and a wool turtleneck, afraid to even approach the window because of the cold that seeps through the glass, I yearn for the climate of my youth. Clothes were less complicated. Less bulky. Less itchy. Life was ... warm.
Despite having braved four winters in Virginia, I'm still a little bit unsure about this whole cold-weather clothes thing. Everyone else seems to throw on a fleece and go, but I'm stuck hemming and hawing every day about how to achieve maximum warmth and minimum bulk through the art of layering.
Should I go with one heavy sweater? Or should I wear a light sweater under a coat instead? Do I need a hat? Do I have a hat that matches the aforementioned light sweater? I think you get my drift. My very shallow drift.
Despite the intense effort I devote to achieving layering Zen, I somehow always seem to miss the mark. The sweater that seemed plenty heavy in the comfort of my eighty-degree apartment seems pathetic now that the wind is whipping right through it. Five layers seemed pretty smart when I was walking to class, but in taking four of them off I created enough static electricity to power a submarine.
My lack of inborn reactions to the cold leads to another bump in the road when winter rolls around: overcompensation. Not just regarding how many winter clothes I put on, but with how many winter clothes I own.
Scarves are certainly the best example of my overcompensation, probably because they're just about the cheapest way to satisfy a craving for winter clothes. I never owned a scarf until halfway through my first year of college. They puzzled me. I had no idea how in the world you tied them into those interesting arrangements that people were sporting. Was it like tying on a fishing hook? Should I have learned how in Girl Scouts? Besides, I asked myself, how could one little strip of fabric really keep you warm anyway?
Someone finally gave me a scarf for Christmas that year, and after spending a pathetic amount of time learning to arrange the darn thing just so, I was officially hooked. Now I have about 10 scarves, which isn't the same as having 500 pairs of shoes like Celine Dion does (don't you love Pop Up Video?). But still, 10 are pretty good for a Florida girl without a $100 million concert contract.
Still, there are some days when I go outside and realize that no amount of clothing can negate the chill in the air. My little brother (who also goes to college in Virginia) is equally cold-inept, but he seems to think that the solution to this problem lies in every felon's best friend: the ski mask.
At a family get-together over Christmas break, he alluded to the fact that such an accessory just might come in handy. My grandfather, who used to live in Ohio, dug around in his closet and returned to the living room with an old ski mask. My brother gleefully accepted it, although I hope that he uses it more as a topic of conversation than as an actual item of clothing. I wouldn't want him to be needlessly implicated in a crime just because he looks like a criminal.
I checked the weather forecast this morning and it looks like highs are actually close to 50 degrees in the next couple of days. So this means that I get at least a temporary break from my cold weather IQ test.
Is dressing warmly really as hard as I make it out to be? Should I just gain 25 pounds of natural insulation so as to kiss my winter coat goodbye? Now there's an idea. I bet Anna Nicole Smith never needs to layer.
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