Cool weather is upon us, friends.
When the temperature dips, I never want to leave my house. This is partly due to the frigid weather, but mostly due to the fact that I am at a loss when it comes to dressing for winter.
I know the components: tights, sweaters, coat, hat, scarves, gloves, etc. It’s putting them together that leaves me befuddled.
I have an odd collection of fall and winter garments that includes pink and white floral boots, a bright orange jacket from Gros Morne National Park, a black beret with rhinestones on it, and a red and blue plaid scarf.
I look like a rainbow threw up on me whenever I go out.
Now that I’ve moved to Newfoundland, I’ve been analyzing the way everyone around me dresses to get some pointers.
So far I’ve learned that dark colors are my friends, and that I need to invest in a great pair of tall, flat-soled boots. I also learned that if I’m stepping on the end of my scarve I’ve done something wrong.
So thanks for the fashion tips, Newfoundlanders!
Also, thank you for dressing appropriately for the cold.
I can rely on a quick glance at my neighbors to ascertain how many layers I need to put on and not freeze.
(A notable exception to this was Halloween night on George Street. Ladies, it takes a lot of alcohol to replace all those missing layers.)
Before moving to Canada, I could not gauge how to dress based on the clothing choices of others.
As I’ve mentioned in the past, I’m originally from Florida. Cold days occur maybe three or four times a year there, but on those days it was always a chore trying to figure out what to wear.
My peers were no help. They fell into two camps of clothing-wearers: those who dressed like they were spending the night in a tent in Siberia, and then, the far more annoying, “I’m-from-up-north-and-these-temperatures-are-practically-swimsuit-weather” folks.
In my humble opinion, three degrees Celsius is cold just about wherever you live.
Maybe not cold enough to wear three pairs of pants, like my mother, but certainly too cold for a girl in Daisy Dukes and a tank top to spend the day competing with a guy in basketball shorts and an undershirt over who can wear the least amount of clothing as nonchalantly as possible. All because they once lived in New York or Alaska.
This bizarre one-up-man-ship seems like a moot point in Canada, where it is cold all the time and stupid not to dress for it.
Now I don’t need to ask myself the questions I asked myself in Florida on those chilly days: Do I need an overcoat? And can I wear flip-flops with it?
The answer is a straightforward yes and no.
Unless, you are my husband.
Then the answer to the last question will always be yes.
I’m sure you’ll see him later this winter. He’ll be the guy slip-sliding through an icy parking lot in his hat, coat, fleece-lined jeans, and Reef flip flops. You know, the leather kind with the bottle opener on the sole.
I apologize in advance for his blue, obscenely bare toes.
I guess you can take the man out of Florida, but you can’t take the Florida out of the man.
In all likelihood when that man and I leave Newfoundland and get back to Florida, we’ll probably be the obnoxious people dressed for the beach in three- degree weather.
Until then, thanks again Newfoundland, for being so nice and reasonable about your winter clothing choices.
Published in The Clarenville Packet.