By Kate Ebeling, Staff Writer
A new year means a new me. Long gone are the days of my subtle judgment on the current climate of the music industry. With the weather having gone from cold to unearthly, and Boston looking incredibly unfamiliar to a Texas native, so I’ve decided to dedicate this 2014 column to discovering Beantown from a (very cold) transplant’s perspective. Enjoy!
In case you didn’t know, Texas weather is unpredictable. Because the state is so big, weather varies from snow and sleet to hot, humid, muggy days. Hailing from Houston, I am an expert of dressing for days that top out at 102 degrees paired with 90 percent humidity.
Houston’s weather has trained me to dress well while allowing for my body to regulate temperatures and not die of a heat stroke. I say this in jest, but I can tell you that it has happened.
When I packed for Boston, I brought up six pairs of denim shorts, cute floral culottes, and skirts. Skirts for days in the park, skirts for class and skirts for long walks. August was warm, and I smugly told my parents that I was, in fact, right in bringing up all of these clothes that were highly inappropriate for normal Boston weather.
I made it all the way to Thanksgiving Break. My meager wardrobe worked by constantly washing the four pairs of pants I owned, and throwing in a couple days of sweatpants. Weekends were tough, but I made it work with a lot of the shorts and tights combo, and a lot of complaining about how cold I was. By the time I came back from Christmas Break, I knew that the snowpocalypse was coming. It was time for the shorts to retire.
Forget the infantry, I had to bring in the big guns.
Firstly, pants are a must. No matter how cut your calves are, no matter how skinny your ankles look in those mini shorts, pants are the only way to go. Pants and tights are the new shorts and tights; the added warmth is a solid bonus. Secondly, forget the crop top. I’ve made many attempts to work the crop top while there is a solid half-foot of snow on the ground, and it’s not worth it. Trust me. Your belly button will thank you.
Also, jackets. We all know you don’t want to carry your jacket to a party. You don’t want to look bulky and lame walking through Allston or down Comm. Ave., but as someone who is used to wearing crops and denims for about 11 months out of the year, the jacket is worth it. I don’t care how “used to 11 degree weather” you are, bring the jacket. Always. You will thank me as you stumble back to your dorm, unable to feel your face and hands, as the snow falls in your hair.
And finally, never wear heels. I wore cowboy boots to parties back home. And kids wore them to school. Yes, that is a real thing. And yes, cowboy boots have heels. Little ones, but even those are too much to wear on a slick, long walk like Comm Ave. Too many people to watch you eat it if somehow you manage to lose your balance.
As a Texan taking on Boston, I hope all those who are also transplants heed my advice: never underestimate the power of mother nature, especially on the east coast.