On Dressing for the Weather
Lately, I’ve been making myself act like an actual adult. I’m going to bed on time, waking up early enough to not rush to the office, and generally not behaving like my age has just entered the double digits. I’m quite proud, but there’s one harsh reminder that I’m not adulting perfectly just yet: dressing for the weather.
Every year, I stare at my wardrobe in bewilderment as it gets warmer. Without fail, I’m taken by surprise that I’m supposed to cobble an outfit together after being evilly polar vortexed for months. This is yet another reason I’d like to start a petition for my own personal fairy godmother: she’d figure out my daily outfits without me having to lift a finger. Since that’s probably not in the cards, I took a look at the five-day Weather.com forecast so I can plan my outfits a bit better. As you can see below, it looks pretty simple. That’s obviously a trick. Here’s what upcoming forecast is vs. how I will actually experience the weather:
Friday: I, so elated by the warm weather that has finally graced us with its presence, will dress for the high of 73°. I pair a crop top with a high-waisted A-line skirt because our fashion editors love to do things like that. Too bad it’s actually going to be the low of 58°, with a sky so devoid of sunlight it would look perfect in some Young Adult dystopian novel-turned-movie. Sucks for me.
Saturday: Friday’s weather disaster isn’t going to get me down! It’s the weekend, which means I’ve got the perfect opportunity to live
everyone’s my personal dream: lolling about in the park all day while eating various types of waffles. I decide on the floral watercolor print sundress I’ve longingly passed over for months while reaching for my puffer. I’m only slightly chilly when there’s a breeze, but I spend most of the day happily munching on various food truck offerings. I got lucky this time.
Sunday: This should technically be perfect weather for exploring the city. Right? 72° and sunny? Unfortunately for me, those extra two degrees and blinding sunshine will be their own special kind of hell. I know I should be at the perfect temperature, so I wear denim cutoffs and a tank. I’m ready for summer! But summer doesn’t want me. I’ll get a vicious rash from the sweat/denim combo, and I’ll sweat entirely too much. Oh, and I’m not one of those glamazons who only “glistens” when overheated, either.
Monday: I rationalize that 1. the weather’s been pretty nice for the past few days, and 2. the universe should technically throw me a solid because it’s Monday, so I don’t check the forecast before I head to work. It will pour all day. My billowy top (it’s white, obviously) will broadcast the color of my underthings to the entire office. I will be bitter because I could have spent all that blow dry time hitting snooze from the comfort of my bed, aka the only safe place for me in this world.
Tuesday: Still feeling burned from yesterday, I make sure to check the weather and try to prepare myself. Armed with an umbrella, I feel cautiously optimistic when facing the day. The wind has other plans. While wrangling my $5, good-for-nothing drugstore umbrella, my skirt flies up and I flash the citizens of this fair city. A child shrieks and clutches his mother because, from his height, I will look like a colossal drowned rat. I wish I were smack in the middle of February instead. Even winter would be better than this.
Finally, after spending a week getting somewhat acclimated to the sudden warm weather, a random 40° day will get thrown in. The weather’s gotta keep me on my toes!