My favorite thing about winter is by far the fashion options. No other season offers the same variety of textures, the ability to layer comfortably, or the amount of clothing necessary to hide my hideously malformed body.
In the spring and summer we’re faced mostly with flat, boring cotton. Maybe some linen or silk, but nothing that compares to the tweeds, flannels, and cable-knits available in winter. Plus, winter is the only season that welcomes the turtlenecks I favor in order to cover the gaping wound on my neck that won’t seem to heal.
Fashion-forward folks know that the key to a successful look is layering, but I must admit I have a tendency to sweat (or how do ladies say it—glow?). So I welcome the cooler temperatures in winter that let me combine some of my favorite pieces into one killer outfit while staying comfortable. It’s also much easier to hide the bony protrusions jutting out of my spine with something more than a t-shirt or button-down. The doctors would grind down the knobs but they’re not sure how much nerve matter I’d lose, and they worry about paralysis.
Many men consider shorts as juvenile, but they’re probably thinking of baggy cargo shorts. Fitted properly they can be as manly as a good pair of slacks, but you still have to worry about the condition of your legs. And brother, do I ever. I have a variety of slacks and jeans, in different colors and patterns, that are a basic necessity to cover up the strange scaly material engulfing my lower legs. This is especially crucial since the various scientists who’ve studied the problem have yet to identify the exact origin of the covering, and can’t rule out total communicability. Pants it is, my friends.
Winter is also a time when no one thinks twice about someone in a hoodie that hides their eyes, and a scarf wrapped over the lower half of their face. I need the latter because due to a combination of poor care and genetics, my teeth don’t so much resemble the teeth of a human as they do the jagged mountainous landscape of a celestial body not subjected to the same sort of gravitational restraints we would see on Earth. I need the hood to hide my eyes because in place of the radiant blue peepers I was born with now lie two weeping sores. You know the “to the pain” speech at the end of The Princess Bride? Let’s just say I’d pay Westley to turn me into the horror he promises for Humperdinck. I’ve considered moving to a colder climate, or one more accustomed to full-body coverings year round, but needless to say the World Health Organization finds it necessary to confine me to my home.
I hope you’ve found my tips for winter weather wear helpful! It’s quite impossible for me to type given the erratic formation of my fingers, and dictation is an exercise in patience for me and my caretaker due to my enormously swollen tongue. Til next year!
Colin Fisher is many things to many people, but mostly he’s an actor and writer.