BY LILLIAN DUNN and ANNIE FREDRICKSON

In print | Published January 27, 2005

Napoleon seemed to have it all: absolute power, his own complex, and a funky bicorne hat. Yet even Old Boney, in the throes of megalomania, could not outwit the harsh Russian winter. Swarthmore is home to a number of people who believe they are God, but in January they, like Napoleon, are just as susceptible to the pain of that exposed swath of skin between glove and sleeve. Sure, it seemed like a short walk when you left your dorm. But as you pass the frozen bodies of your underdressed peers on the way to Kolhberg, you realize that this winter, Mother Nature is a force to be reckoned with. “Poor bastard,” you think, stepping over the guy who once sat next to you in Econ. You stare at his face, now fixed in a ghastly mockery of a grin. Then you pry the travel mug from his cold, dead hands and go home to wrap up in another layer.

Such incidents make us re-evaluate our priorities. Do I call my parents enough? Should I really be an English major? What gives my life meaning? And, most of all, do I care that wearing these three sweaters makes me look fat? The arrival of arctic weather often seems to require that we supplant chic form with bulky function. Gone are the moccasins, the fetching slacks, the Bedazzled™ jean jacket. Gone is the casually tousled hair, the sexy unbuttoned collars, the joy, the laughter. In order to keep warm, we resign ourselves to dowdiness and desperately attempt to wear everything we own all at once. The end result usually leaves us with the boxy shape and limited mobility of a fire hydrant.

Layering is a clever strategy to beat the weather, but it can backfire when done impulsively.

With a little forethought, one can stay both toasty and relatively proportional. Take, for example, thermal underwear. Investing in a thin thermal undershirt, long-sleeved or no-sleeved, is an efficient move. Designed by America’s best, ski clothing specifically engineered for this weather can have the power of ten cotton layers and thus cuts down on bulkiness. If you can stomach them, long-johns (named after long-forgotten pugilist John L. Sullivan, we swear) separate the boys from the men. We direct you to Muhammad Jowza ’07 or Reshma Pattni ’06 for advice on the long-john lifestyle.

In cold weather, the dress-over-pants combo actually has a purpose besides indie stylishness, but it must be executed correctly. A flattering length is usually a hand’s breadth above the knee (middle school teachers be damned!). Widely flared jeans and baggy pants disrupt the line of the dress, which looks best when it is loose-fitting and avoids hugging the obvious outlines of all your other layers. Dresses with flared skirts or straight, loose outlines — a shirtdress, for example — look great over pants and keep you cozy.

Pantyhose are also woefully underrated. For those with luxuriant leg hair, pantyhose can be uncomfortable, but tights are a perfect solution for chilly legs. They are thin enough to wear unobtrusively under pants and those who have not tried them should seriously consider buying a pair.

Remember that grisly Jack London story “To Build a Fire” that we all had to read in ninth grade, the one about the man (named “the man”) who freezes to death in the Alaskan wilderness, abandoned by his dog, after spending too long trying to make a fire?

If we can take anything from that tale, it’s that dogs are smarter than people, and that fixating on your last match can distract you from the larger problem at hand, e.g. impending death. Creative thinking is key in these harsh conditions, and that goes for fashion as well as survival but keep an extra box of matches in your mukluks, just in case.

Lillian and Annie are sophomores. You can reach them at ldunn1@swarthmore.edu and afredri1@swarthmore.edu.

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