REFLECTIVE MOMENTS Being warm trumps having fashion sense

Some folks with modern fashion sense are called “fashionistas.” In the old days those individuals might have been known as “clothes racks.” Both names are meant as sincere compliments from those of us who are challenged in the matter of mixing and matching tops and bottoms with scarves and boots and other accessories.

In my growing-up days I observed the other girls and what they wore. Many looked stylish — but cold. The rest of us were not so stylish but we were warm even though we might have resented being warm as opposed to stylish.

I vehemently hated having to wear brown leotards with my skirts, and even more, I disliked wearing slacks over the leotards under the skirts. The slacks came off in the cloak room at school but by the time the cloak room was reached, the stylish kids had their chance to laugh at what we were made to wear in public.

To add to the embarrassment was the hats with ear flaps, the scarves of heavy wool that were not fashion statements as they are today, and the heavy duty parkas that would have efficiently protected us from the kind of frigid temperatures experienced in the past 10 days. And don’t forget the lined boots with fake fur around the tops that were rated for any kind of chill.

My parents were adamant that we would not freeze and so what if we For Moose Jaw Express were laughed at as long as we were warm. I have grown into understanding those sentiments and no longer care very much if friends and strangers laugh at how I dress in the winter. The new parka in the closet isn’t nearly as warm as the old one that is missing some buttons so I know I look like a ragamuffin in it, but it is large enough to allow me to layer: a thermal top under a warm T-shirt, under a warmer warm-up jacket which is under a ragged-looking hoodie, with a zip and a hood. None of the colours match. With that I wear compression stockings, warmer socks and heavy slacks or jeans. One day I had on a pair of skinny slacks plus loose fitting heavy trousers over them. All were black so if one hung out below, no one noticed — or were too polite to mention it. With the hood up on my hoodie, the scarf pulled up over my nose and the hood on the parka on top of it all, that Goodyear Blimp guy must have feared for his job. And while I should have been warm, it was still cold sitting in the frigid vehicle and grasping the steering wheel in the extra heavy gloves.

But what did I see as I waited for the temperature gauge to reach C but a younger lady in jeans with the knees ripped out, a light-weight scarf around her neck, and a flappy sweater thing flapping in the breeze. She had no gloves on and surely her hands were freezing as she held her phone tightly in one hand and walked gingerly along the slippery sidewalk in her high heels. Someday that young lady will be an older lady and she too will alter her clothes sense from fashionably cold to embarrassingly warm. Trust me, it will happen.