Fashion Notes: Frost Warning

I come from Toronto, a part of the country that other Canadians sneer at for numerous reasons, not least of which that it's not all that cold. Being used to the mild temperatures below the 49th parallel, I have trouble adjusting when I return to the Maritime city where I attend school. Alas, not being on the ocean, this place has a fairly miserable climate: hot, humid summers, bitter winters, and every September, a frustrating season when the temperature fluctuates from about 30°F in the early morning to about 70°F in mid-afternoon. I always forget how cold it is here when I'm at home, and ask myself why I own so many sweaters.

J. Crew's clothes generally don't fit me, but I do like their knits. This is my latest acquisition, a lightweight wool-blend crewneck in a beautifully dark navy ($69.50). I layer it over white button-down shirts and dark jeans, and it is warm, neat and terribly preppy in an old-fashioned way, which I find I'm into these days. (Nouveau preppy, alas, is a loathsome style, all about wearing rugby shirts or hoodies with the correct aspirational logo blazoned across the chest; when I was in high school it was Tommy Hilfiger, these days it seems to be Hollister.)

Did I mention it's really cold in the mornings? I have a new pair of moccasins (actually they're like these, navy with grey fur); I feel a little guilt over the fur trim, but nothing else is as warm, as soft, as thoroughly comforting to wear while I guzzle coffee and ask myself why I thought it was a good idea to register for early morning classes. Also, my last pair lasted me twelve years.

It was my birthday yesterday, and I have a couple of indulgences: a light-as-air sleeveless silk blouse in a deep teal, from Véronique Miljkovitch (not pictured on her website, oddly enough), and these 1920s-inspired Savoy pumps from Remix Vintage. I love the low fluted heel, the wide strap, the lovely buttoned-up primness of them (although the era's a bit off, I think of Ginger Rogers in The Gay Divorcée, girlish and aloof, trying to maintain her composure with her dress caught in a trunk, or gleefully racing her Duesenberg through a park). One can just picture them with the wispy, flowing frocks of the era, although I will probably wear them with wide trousers or knee-length skirts; as much as I love the retro look, it can be overdone.