Snowshoe Blues

The weekend before last I accompanied friends to a ski cabin to attempt snowshoeing.

This is not normal for me.

I’m about as comfortable in the snow as I am in a SoulCycle class or any function followed by the word GALA.

However, anything involving a shoe of any kind piques my interest. And since these “shoes” involve a tennis racquet shaped sole, and that my recent passion for tennis gave me a false sense of security with this unfamiliar manner of footwear, I gave the idea of this whole endeavor a giant THUMBS UP.

But here’s the thing: the accompanying sartorial shenanigans required to snowshoe get an even bigger THUMBS DOWN.

And here lies the reason I’ve skied only once in my life (besides the fact I just plain sucked): ski clothes.

The “mom jeans” of outerwear, hideous high-rise waterproof pants, adds an instant 25 pounds; the swish-swish-swish soundtrack of leg contact announces ones puffy arrival. Although the parka has come a long way since the White Stag days of yore, a bulky ski jacket crammed over a fleece under-layer atop the above maligned pants creates a fashion felony worse than the denim tuxedo on a middle-aged man.

Having said all of this, once out in the snow, in the middle of nowhere, inexplicably freezing and sweating at the same time, rationing our one banana and half-empty bag of turkey jerky while kicking Donner Party nightmares out of my frozen brain, I’ve never laughed harder or felt more pure joy as I did in that awful outfit.

We finally made it safely to the lodge at Sugar Bowl, having trekked nearly 5 miles through fresh powder. I was so starving and relieved that I almost choked on my chicken tenders and booze infused hot chocolate.

Me, much more comfortable in my vintage fur vest from Eden Eden, Rick Owens sneaker-boots and RtA jeans coming home. Leslie at the wheel.

Back in the car inching home in my civilian clothes, I was comfortable again and back in my element. I don’t regret the trip at all; on the contrary, even though I slept on a bunk bed in a communal lodge surrounded by strangers and strange kids, enduring a few hours of horrific ski clothes was well worth the memories I made with Lori and Leslie that will last a lifetime.

Next time, if there is one, I will be more prepared. Moncler and Herno both make beautiful parkas — fair warning, they are not cheap. But use the jackets below as inspiration for some interesting shapes and styles to look out for. I especially love the funnel neck (warm + alluring), florals, and flared sleeves – all a shoe-in to make you feel great in the cold.