How to Be a Winter Warrior

When I first moved from the tropical haven of Hawaii to the Pacific Northwest, the first question everyone asked me was, "Why'd you move here?" Annoying as it became (I soon tried telling them I was from Canada, but that didn't go over so well for me, either), I'd stick to the usual, "they always said the grass was greener here." And while I'm no expert on shades of green (I'm more of a shades of gray kind of gal), I can tell you that this area is renowned for its lush environment. But the greenery comes along with a hefty dose of grey; the scenery stays lush from the 9-month monotony of slightly damp precipitation that people here like to call "rain." But to a tropical transfer like myself, no matter what my balcony view, 270 odd days of weather below 50' is a winter war-zone. And I had no idea how to arm myself.

The days of freedom from winter fashion were left behind in memories of my tank top and flip-flop wardrobe, and I was pummeled into a new and strange concept: layering. The fact that people actually had to wear a jacket to go outside was confusing enough to my warm-weather conditioning, but having to put something underneath your clothes was an entirely different beast. You mean, I thought, people actually choose to live here when they've got to put on long johns?

My first layering attempts consisted of: two pairs of socks, a couple of pairs of jeans, a tank top, a t-shirt, another long sleeve t-shirt, and at least one sweater. And then of course, I had to find a way to squeeze my blizzard-ready body into a fashionable Gortex jacket (because all the cool kids wear Gortex). I felt like that kid from Christmas Story who was bounded up in so many cold-weather apparatuses that he actually began to resemble a snowball.

But thank god for human evolution! Gradually, I learned by aping that there is a technique to winning to the winter war. I studied winter movies scrupulously, and spied on specimens shopping for cold weather armament. The realm of layering was starting to unfold before me - and I was fascinated. I marveled at the ability of these items to trap so much heat with such minimal material, and still remain dry. And soon, I assumed the appropriate assortment of what was previously the strange and unfamiliar world of the winter wardrobe.

What I have learned is that jeans do not make for good insulators, and that socks actually come in wonderfully thick proportions. I soon flaunted around in my long underwear while dressing in the morning, adding my base layer long-sleeve shirt, thick wool sweater, and of course, my cute, and I daresay, cleverly chosen coat. The mystery of the enemy was being overcome by my winterized wisdom.

I still sometimes lose the battle of my clothing quest. There are moments of weakness in which I find myself gravitating toward the luscious aisles of tank tops and shorts in the middle of a monsoon, and have to remind myself that I'm no longer living in an endless summer. And in the event that I cave, I find that it's easy to blame the marketers for it (Shame on them for abetting my temptation!) But despite the occasional battle here and there, I have won the war.

If you decide to relocate from paradise to Portland, keep in mind the strategy you must endure. Make certain you have read up on the enemy, and have amassed an initial supply of artillery (see the 'flaunting' segment above). With luck, smarts, and winter wits, you too can be king of the snowhill. Now go get 'em you winter warrior, you.