After all my highfalutin’ about spectrums and experimentation, ol’ Mother Nature has offered up a rather poignant reminder of how much influence our environment, be it cultural, political, or meteorological, has over our outward expression of self. However, we must not allow these restrictions to thwart us in our personal style journey – note jaunty angle of scarf. From hemmed school kilts to stylish hijabs, there is always room for personalization. Plus, fogged glasses grant a person total freedom from outside judgment – although it might be nice to bloody well see where I’m going!
Standing atop a frozen hilltop yesterday before dawn, I beheld an apocalyptic vision… a smoking, ruinous, hulk of a city lay spread out beneath me, its jagged skyline blurred by countless plumes of thick grey steam. A thousand tiny yellow licks of flame glowed bright against the blackness – a thousand twinkling windows. Man, it was cold out.
I woke up to winter in Calgary today. Sure, there were heaps of snow on the ground yesterday, and the bow river was slate grey and seething, but there was still something missing. The season change became official at 7am this morning, when Mother Nature overheard me trying to describe my outfit over the phone:
“Um, ok, so picture me as a Christmas elf at the mall, but all they could find for me was some old man’s wrinkled elf costume from who knows when. Oh, and my lumberjack socks are pulled up over my pants, almost to my knees.”
I’d like to say I went straight back to my room to change, but I didn’t. I tied on my damp sneakers (boots are for sissies, not real Canadians) and trudged out into the wilderness. When the weather works its way this deep into your bones, this early, there’s not a whole lot you can do. Except maybe, and I suppose I’m right on time here, channel it for Halloween?
Calgary weather has a cruel sense of humor. Like the uncle who insists on pinching your cheek in front of your fiancé, it doesn’t knows when to stop the joke. After this little incident, I had to do a double take to make sure what I found this morning was the kind of fluff that makes you sneeze rather than sniffle. But somehow, this city always gets the last laugh. While I was taking a closer look with my camera, I was just about mowed down by a crazed morning cyclist. Touché, Calgary…touché.