What Your Coat Says About You
It’s basically like, “Just be quiet, child. Let me do the talking.”
No shame in the game if you haven’t bought your winter coat yet. Maybe cross that off your list first, though, then come play…
The Proper Puffer:
She eats lunch like clockwork at 1 PM everyday because she once read that metabolically, it was the best time to eat. She has rain boots and snow boots because you never know when you might need them — I mean, you do know, but most people ignore that principle and ruin their shoes. She likely also has a retractable umbrella in her purse. Mock her practicality all you want but the Proper Puffer is a winter warrior. In a block-to-block walking challenge, she could outrun a penguin.
Often confused for a yeti, the Ned Stark wears a fur coat bigger than she is. It’s white. It has shoulders. It has an amusement park lodged somewhere within the sleeve. She got her fur from one of two places: her grandmother’s closet, or a flea market in Brooklyn. Together she and her coat are transitioning out of the manic pixie dream girl ripped tights/combat boots phase and into “Oh this old thing? It’s couture.” She straight owns it. She dodges PETA like a hockey team center and doesn’t care if you hum the Game of Thrones intro song at her — she’s warm, and she has a secret: naked as a baby under this bear skin rug.
The Peacoat Person:
She who peas is a fan of the classics. Her wardrobe is a series of staples of the non-desk variety: they won’t join paper together via sharp metal hugs, but they will allow her to cruise through such slideshows as “The 10 Things Every Girl Needs in Her Closet” while going, “Check, check, check, check.” The peacoat is no exception. It begins its appearance in her daily rotation once fall’s trench is phased out and it will remain on her body — steadfast and true — until her denim jacket taps out the navy wool tailoring come spring. The Peacoat Person is secretly always a little bit cold, but she’s not replacing this thing until an armpit rips.
The Camel Coater
The CC is likely a model off-duty or has adopted the winter uniform of the Bowery cool-kids: oversized, ankle-length camel coat, leather pants, white sneakers, Acne knit and a Carhartt beanie. Or, the other alternative is that she’s a character on Seinfeld.
The Statement Maker
The Statement-Maker can go one of two ways. Either she’s wearing the Katy Perry equivalent of purposely-faux fuzzwear, or, she is cold as fuck in a thin layer of pure fashion. Gold lamé trenches and cropped silk bombers look awesome but send grandparents into a state of panic when they catch wind that all their chic grandchild is catching is wind.
Laugh all you want at she-who-shivers, though, because the goosebumps and sneeze attacks are just an act to keep The Secret safe. What’s the secret? Only that Statement-Makers harbor a secret blood type that enables them to withstand even the most brutal of winters in cool coats plus bare legs.
When it comes to looks, she looks great, but she also failed to look at the weather app very prominently blinking “FLASH BLIZZARD WARNING” on her phone. She didn’t look out her window, either. What this says about her is that she’s staunch in her decision-making — universe be damned! She’s a yeswoman to no one, except, of course, to the worst possible item in her closet for whatever’s happening outdoors. The best thing about her? She refuses to complain.
The Out-Smarter doesn’t technically possess the same blood type as The Statement Makers, but unlike the above Weather Girl, she does know what’s up (or down) when it comes to temperature. Similar to both, she’s dedicated to her wardrobe. The outfit is priority, not being a human wood burning fireplace — but here, my dear friends, is where she prevails: she has figured out that so long as her head, neck, hands, legs and feet are warm, she can basically get away with a t-shirt.
In practice, she’s the savviest of the bunch. She’s got her Uniqlo Heatteach on underneath a set of waffle-knit long johns, over which she’s wearing wool trousers, camp socks, a turtleneck, a button down, a vest, a sweater, three coats and two scarves. Not only is she a street style photographer’s dream — The layers! The textures! The print clashing and the mixed-media smashing! — but she herself is warmer than a toucan in a pile of spicy pepperoni. She’s clearly from a climate where cold isn’t a four letter word; it’s a way a life.
And yet, for her especially, there’s no escaping the sweaty mess of hot panic we’ve all experienced after realizing you just got on the wrong subway — which won’t be stopping again until Queens.
The Ski Lift Regular:
To the Ski Lift Regular, the world is an Applebees, she is the waitress and the lift tags that hang off her multi-purpose athletic jacket are her mandatory, corporate-regulated flare. You’re annoyed that she’s ditched you every weekend since December 1st for fresh powder and an over-abundance of Snapchats captioned “après-beerskis,” but as you stand side-by-side with you in your flimsy leather jacket and she in her Nasa-quilt, you realize you’re jealous. You also realize that she probably has a surplus of HotHands hand warmers in her pocket, and yes — you can have a pack.
The Body Heat Huddler