Winter cramps my style. All I want is to cover every inch of flesh to avoid the elements, which completely trumps being fashionable. I see women in stylish canary yellow coats, in sexy stockings, in cutie-pie knit caps topped with tufts of yarn or those funky Russian jobs old guys wear to go hunting. Despite the icy tundra surrounding us, these gals look like a million bucks.

Meanwhile, I’m dressed in four layers of clothes beneath a down coat hanging to my knees. I’m in a bulbous hat covering my entire head, a chunky scarf and boots heavy enough to pass military inspection. Because of my shortness and round features, the look is far from flattering. I could only describe my winter style as “igloo-esque.”

The winter is my cocoon period, a season of reinvention in which I discover new ways to put myself into the world once I become a butterfly in spring. Clothes may be the most superficial aspect of this rebirth, but certainly they’re the most fun. Usually, I only get rid of old stuff from the closet or choose new words to describe my style. Last year, I was going to be “funky,” the year before a bit more “boho.” But 2010 feels different. More transformative. My next incarnation?

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Last-modified: 2021-02-24 (水) 01:16:46 (4d)