The Do's and Don'ts of Winter Nighttime Fashion at Michigan

Image via usaukonline.com

It’s no secret that Michigan winter can be brutal. That is, of course, unless you’ve been teleporting to the UGLi (Undergraduate Library), skipping classes and hiding out in your room, or stapling the window curtains shut. And if you are one of these people, please let us in on your secrets—not even my history of witchcraft class last semester has taught me that one.

As I struggle to bear the numbness of my fingers during my walk back home from the MLB (Modern Language Building), I’ve noticed that this numbness miraculously disappears as the sun goes down…

Does it really disappear? Don’t be ridiculous; it’s cold out there. But as iPhones start vibrating with the night’s plans and the camera flashes overwhelm the lobby of every freshman dorm on the hill, the clothing layers seem to have shed. A girl who–bundled up in a wool coat, sweater, jeans, boots and a scarf–made me perspire just from looking at her after the trek up four flights of the Mason Hall stairs this morning is dressed for summertime tonight. The color of open-toed wedges match that of short skirts, accompanied by cropped tanks showing more skin than one’s typical summer wardrobe. And to think, only a few hours ago, this same girl was dressed for an excursion in Antarctica.

As I’ve grown more accustomed to the harsh Michigan winters in college, I’ve also been educated on the winter nighttime’s dress code. First, the jackets have got to go—if they haven’t already. Yes, it’s cold outside, but you know what’s hot? Everything else. Whether it’s a crowded frat party, South U bars or a small house party, you’re going to be sweating like a pig. Is there an unwritten rule for parties to crank up the heat until it seems as if we’ve all transferred to a large university in South America? Quite possible. Regardless, be prepared for the perspiration, both yours and others.

Thinking you’ll avoid the temperature contradiction with “fracket”? For those unaware of the term, let me enlighten you; fracket is a cheap jacket, unworthy of other use, worn on the way to fraternity parties to avoid the cold. Once inside, the jacket is taken off and not to be photographed with. It seems like a genius idea at first, but the problem arises from the fact that this idea seems genius to those who did not think of a fracket as well. In other words, frackets are meant to be stolen. On a cold winter night, a lonely fracket in the corner may look as appealing as the late night Insomnia cookies. My friend “Alicia” tried the fracket idea once and yes she lost her fracket. She searched in and out of the fraternity house, but its remains were never found. So I leave you with this: Fracket at your own risk.

Just as much as frackets are a unisex concept, so is the ‘desire to look good.’  In other words, men are victims to the weather crisis as well. Although their heels may not leave imprints on the freshly fallen snow, their arms, skimpily revealed by a Lacoste polo shirt, are still extremely visible. Whether it’s to show off their new year’s resolution weight regimen or survive from heat stroke, the male partygoers whip out their Lacrosse styled pinnies and short sleeve shirts, ignorant to any forecast reports for the night ahead.

If it weren’t for the frosty white snow and slush on the ground, which cause the awkward slips and stumbles through the Diag, the winters in Ann Arbor may not even be identifiable—fashion wise.  But how, you ask, is this possible? How do University of Michigan students survive from pneumonia, colds, flues, everything? I see two answers to this question: either they miraculously survive due to the holy invention of cabs, or they don’t.

Cab services must truly love the wintertime—especially when they are the only ones in a 500-mile radius. On any given night, cabs will be lined up outside dorms, alongside the main streets, and in front of bars awaiting their next passengers. Thinking about cabbing home from a hard day’s drinking? Good luck getting there; on the weekends, a cab company may tell you there is a 45-minute, even an hour, wait. And good luck keeping hold of single dollar bills; Michigan students worship those babies as if a leprechaun would worship a pot of gold.

The people sporting summer-approved outfits at night are indeed the same ones in the following morning with a nasty hacking cough and, I daresay, they should banished from public. Just last week, I witnessed a guy next to me shuttering in cold and clinging to his own personal box of tissues in a study room of the UGLi. Yet, the cold doesn’t seem to stop people. That my friends, is the Michigan difference.