I have a confession: fashion confuses me. A lot. Especially winter/fall fashion. Most stylish winter coats appear to have been designed for a Fijian winter. I’ve seen coats I could wear on a summer evening in Calgary, and the model is frolicking in fake snow like that jacket is the toastiest thing since toast. If I tried to wear that in the dead of a Calgarian winter I’d die of hypothermia before I got to the garage. I’d bet my pyjamas are warmer than some of those coats.
This is the inside of my house. Brr.
In Calgary, where temperatures of -50ºC (with wind chill) are not unheard of, fashion tends to die from November to April or so (with breaks for chinooks). We aren’t exactly a dedicatedly fashionable city to start with (though I suppose they do say denim never goes out of style), and I am probably worse than most. I’m still wearing clothes I bought in 2006, and by watching old TV shows I’m able to delude myself into thinking that people still wear stuff like that. Also, I don’t really care.
Sure, I look cute here. But it's 15 degrees, not -40.
So, much in the way a bear hibernates, outwear fashion hibernates here. Especially during cold snaps. 80% of the people you pass on the street are nothing more than an androgynous lump of wool, gortex, and down, with a set of frozen eyelashes peeking out of scarf wrapped up like a roll of toilet paper. Big-time celebrities that complain about the paparazzi should move here. If I didn’t know what her coat looked like, I wouldn’t recognize my own mother dressed up like that.
If you’re looking for people you can still recognize, however, you are in luck. 15% of the people you’ll see are high school students (and other similarly deluded individuals), transiting to & from their places of education and peer pressure. Most of them will be ridiculously under-dressed. They’re courting hypothermia like it’s trending on Twitter, and complimenting each other on their fashionably asymmetrical frost bite.
The last 5% must have their internal thermometers set 25° higher than average. These are the people you see cycling and biking along the river in nothing but spandex, running shorts, and a fuzzy headband. Whenever we have a crazy cold snap the local media will pin down a few of these people to serve them a well deserved “WTF?!?” The jogger, inevitably, will say they go running every day, rain, shine, or Hoth, and that this “really isn’t that cold” anyways. They always fail to mention the permanent nerve damage they obviously have.
So, how do I cope? Well, partly pride. Definitely. It’s a thing of pride, to tell Australians about and other warm weather dwellers, that I survive -40° weather on a regular basis. I also drink hot tea like I’m chronically dehydrated, run a space heater almost constantly, wear an absurd amount of merino wool, and sleep with a heated bean bag like it’s my blankie. When it comes to going outside, I double down. Seriously. I wear two down coats, a sweater, and a hard shell to keep out the wind. Snowpants, heavy duty mitts, two toques, a gigantic scarf, and a pair of thick, grippy boots to deal with all the ice. It’s a very sexy look. Like cotton candy on a very robust stick. A waddling stick. Like a before photo in a weight loss commercial. Really, really sexy. You wouldn’t believe all the men that whistle at me as I waddle down the street like a sumo wrestler. You wish you were me.
