You know what’s not easy? Getting dressed when it’s so damn cold out. You know what’s even harder? Showering. (Being wet + being cold = death by a million paper cuts.) While I have yet to find a solution for the latter that does not involve dry shampoo and further forgoing the fundamentals of decent hygienic upkeep, I do believe I might be inching toward respite in the case of getting dressed. The operative words here are might be inching.
Now, you may be wondering why I even bring up the shower bit if you’re going to be dealt tips for keeping warm but staying cool — right? Frankly, it is only to place an impediment on whatever visceral and crude reactions you might be having to the state of my hair and face in the above images. I’m sorry I look the way I do but this head chose me and I have no regrets.
Now! Moving forward. Remember that note I conveyed on girls who go out and the one who wears angora, she is a hypochondriac?
Well, here’s what I’m thinking: if you’re willing to wear a shrunken, cropped short sleeve mohair sweater, you might be in the must-consume-five-glasses-of-water-upon-walking-indoors clear. Allowing your arms and a sliver of your belly the ability to breathe will only enable better times for you and your oxygen flow. High waist jeans are optional but for the sake of taking man repelling seriously, they’re also highly encouraged. I’d suggest a peg leg or cropped pair so that you can wear your weirdest and favorite booties and have the hem of the jeans meet the boots’ trim for a tete-a-tete called perfection. (Pronounced the French way, so, per-fek-si-own).
Wear socks because it would be foolish not to and then lastly: add your most interesting coat. In the case of my self and closet, this signaled the use of my deer print Carven coat. You should know that the print is just a print — the coat is not made from fur (hasn’t Bambi suffered enough? She lost her mom at near embryonic age). It is wool and sometimes, when I catch my reflection while I’m wearing it, I feel like I’m wearing a bathrobe while on my way to a wild mushroom hunt.
And guess what? That’s it. That’s all I’ve got — a “modern” take on the 1950’s lady who doth not engage in sex but doth chew bubblegum. Saturday night is but a mere few hours away, though, so, tell me: how you gonna stay cool without freezing? (Ultimately, I think I can still use some pointers), so…?