SORRY, NO SNOW PANTS TO WORK.
Ionce broke up with a guy because I didn’t like his winter boots. OK, that wasn’t the only reason. Arguably, it wasn’t even the most important reason. But it was a contributing factor.
I’m not proud of this. I’m aware that it probably makes me a terrible, shallow person. But if you’d seen these boots, maybe you’d understand. They were these big, ugly, hulking things that were so heavy he could barely lift his feet while wearing them. “Let’s go for a romantic walk in the snow!” we’d say. Clomp clomp clomp. “Let’s escape the cold and go to a nice restaurant for dinner!” we’d agree. Clomp scuff scuff clomp.
Last week, Maclean’s writer Shannon Proudfoot caused a stir on Twitter when she tweeted an apparent defence of Ottawa, the city we both call home, that quickly took a turn.
“I love Ottawa,” she wrote. “I think the way Ottawa gets slagged as dorky and provincial and sleepy are absurd, because in reality it’s an incredibly livable place with excellent food, drink and culture. “However, all of this falls apart in the face of adults wearing snow pants to work.”
Predictably, her tweet sparked the ire of snow pantclad adults throughout the nation’s capital. One user responded that she’d wear her snow pants “with extra vigor” now that she knows it “bothers the delicate sensibilities of the upper class grown ups.”
Proudfoot later followed up with a caveat — she’d only meant people wearing snow pants on the bus or in a car, not those who walk or bike to work. But she should have stood her ground. I’ve lived in a number of cities across this country, and let me tell you, wearing snow pants to work is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
Take Edmonton, for example, where it is considered socially acceptable to wear heavy-duty work coats with reflective stripes around town, as if you’ve just driven into the city from an oilsands camp and you simply can’t wait to go back. Or Vancouver, where it rains for eight months of the year, spawning a legion of cyclists dressed head to toe in Gore-Tex, complete with fetching little waterproof shoe covers. Or Whitehorse, where no one cares what coat you’re wearing as long as you’ve got a plaid shirt on underneath it.
I believe we must stand firm against such offences. Faced with an onslaught of oversized boots, balaclavas, ear muffs and, yes, snow pants, the bravest among us must rise up and proclaim: “We are Canadian, and if necessary, we will wear discreet long johns!”
Still, I understand that it’s not always easy to dress properly for Canadian winters. Here, then, is a useful guide to winter wear that should make you suitably ashamed of your novelty fur hat, and might even help you avoid frostbite.