Snowgate: the Week Fashion Forgot

Snow fatigue has well and truly settled round these parts.

Long gone are the romantic notions of rosy cheeks, flakes on eyelashes and thick-knitted scarves, now clearly an illusion created in December’s festive glow. Now it is just ice and slush, back to work and headlines telling us that we will certainly, without a shadow of a doubt, die of hypothermia as soon as we leave the house.

Unless you are a lucky one, curled up at home in a cable-knit jumper and bed socks, you will have had to battle Mother Nature’s iciest blasts this week.

I feel bitter because I fell on my arse twice yesterday. This taught me a thing or two about snowy weather in London.

Firstly, people will not rush to help you unless you are an old-aged pensioner. Luckily thanks to my particular outfit choice of doubled-up tartan and wrinkled tights, someone thought I was. More fool them.

Secondly, it taught me that the snow brings out a few distinct tribes of people.

Most hated are those sanctimonious Rab-fleece wearing practical types, who shoot withering looks from their toasty coats as I squelch around in holey brogues.

Then there are the hopelessly impractical, like myself, skating around pitifully in said squelchy brogues (partly through vanity, it should be said, but also because I own no practical clothes).

There are also a certain group of people who float along in oversized knitted snoods and chic black boots, as if they dropped in from a Chanel skiwear shoot – but the less said of them the better.

Then we come to the final breed, those who gladly throw sartorial caution to the icy winds and stick anything they can on to keep them warm. Such a vivid array of colours and textures I have never seen scooting around London’s streets.

At first I would give these mix-match snow-fighting pioneers, proudly wearing their little brother’s football scarf and aunties ear-muffs, a look of disdain. A little bit of snow is no reason to lapse into clothing madness.

Today I feel differently. Maybe the snow has beaten me down, maybe i’m just fed up of having soggy feet, but I have a new sense of respect for that final group. They enter into a battle with the snow and win, without a glimmer of smugness.

I only wish I’d taken their initiative before venturing out in my beautiful new, horribly impractical buttonless cashmere coat – now with added slush stains. More fool me.

Image by P a u l – S o m e r s courtesy of Flickr