I take a sweatshirt everywhere. Everywhere. Even in 90 degree heat when I know I’m going to be wandering around New York City all day, off and on the 115 degree subway, I bring a sweatshirt. Most of the time I end up never putting it on and have to carry it all over the city getting stopped by strangers who point out that I’ve been dragging it on the sidewalk for the past five blocks. You’d think I’d learn to take a minute before I leave to gauge the weather and determine if a sweatshirt is necessary, but I don’t. Either way, though, I figure, “Of course it’s necessary because I might spend five minutes in a store that has the air conditioning on, and I might get slightly cold.” And that would be totally unacceptable.
One would figure, then, that when going to Canada in mid-September I’d be sure to have plenty of sweatshirts packed, but no. I don’t know what sort of head-up-my-ass thought process I had going on while I was packing, but I managed to get all the way to the United States border before I realized, hey! I don’t have anything warmer than a long sleeved tee shirt with me.
An afternoon of shopping didn’t really yield anything more than a men’s brown zip up hoodie from H&M which I bought but don’t really like. There’s nothing in the stores that appeals to me, and I’m pretty bummed out about it. For the ladies, they seem to have an over-abundance of wrap sweaters which make me look like I’m wearing my dad’s bath robe, and cropped sweaters that don’t do anything for people who want to be warm. I doubt I’ll be doing much serious fall shopping this year; the over all trend seems to be “ugly”.
But for now, I’m warm in Canada.