I'm Obsessed with Perfecting "How to Dress for the Weather"
actually my new hobby
👋🏼👋🏼👋🏼 Hi! I’m so happy to see you. I’m Laura Jane Williams, a UK-based romance author. How to Build a Life launched in August 2024, and now has thousands of readers in over 75 countries (!). You can expect personal stories about life’s mess and mayhem, and the search for a way of living that feels right. I’m almost 40, a solo parent by choice, and for 2025 am committed to stealing back time from my to-do list. I’m just sick of being busy with stuff that doesn’t really matter, you know?
I just revealed all the details about my summer 2025 book, and if you email me on me@laurajanewilliams.com with proof of your pre-order, I’ll comp you a free month to How to Build a Life, OR send you a hand-written love note no matter where in the world you live! Just let me know which you prefer.
Dressing for the weather.
My friend Charlotte is really good at this, at knowing exactly what you need for five degrees but sunny, versus four degrees with a high level of moisture in the air (possible rain), versus ten degrees with a high wind chill or else fifteen degrees with not a breeze in sight.
My brother is, too, but then my brother is good at most things in this life WHICH IS FINE and something to which I DO NOT COMPARE MYSELF TO AT ALL. Thanks for asking. Jack has some sort of Cos/Arket waterproof jacket and trousers combo that I’ve never seen anybody else wear ever, but makes the most sense of anything in my life? If it’s raining, or going to, or you’re walking the mucky dog, why wouldn’t you wear essentially a waterproof all-in-one and just protect everything from dirt and water? He was on his way to a luxury spa via the 38 bus last time I FaceTimed him, and you just knew he was gonna peel off that outer layer and then look like he belonged. Le sigh.
I don’t know why an adult rain suit shocks me so much when I dress my kid that way. In fact, I think that’s where the hobby started growing legs. When I became a parent, suddenly knowing the exact temperature now, and for this afternoon, and the cloud coverage, pollen count and wind speed was the only way to ensure my kid’s comfort and safety.
(That’s a joke. He’d forever go out in just a t-shirt if I let him.)
(My mother has a sixth sense about whether or not he’s wearing a warm vest that day though? And would actually kill me if she found out he wasn’t? Grandmothers are, I think, more protective over their grandchildren than they were their own children.) (Complimentary.)
Anyway. Now I have a job and leave the house every day, suddenly I am aware of clothes. I actually won best dressed at high school, which was factually accurate: I did colour, I did style, I once got told to borrow a cardigan for school assembly because my top was too “party-party” (I was furious). For a while there it was “wear whatever I don’t mind getting sticky handprints on” and then it was staying in my sweaty gym gear all day, but I’m getting back to myself now. I’m re-learning how to dress. And yes, mostly that involves knowing an awful lot about the weather.
I need to get this off my chest.
When it comes to clothes, some lies exist. For example: big wooly jumpers. There is no time outside of being Cameron Diaz in a Nancy Myers movie when oversized woolly jumpers actually serve a purpose. They don’t fit under coats, and let’s assume you’re wearing a big wooly jumper in winter and will need a coat to go anywhere. First mark against it. So you’re inside in your massive woolly jumper, which means the heating is on, because again, it is winter. If the heating is on this jumper will leave you slick with sweat, little baby airs stuck to your forehead. If you have no heating and are in a remote French lodge with a real fire burning: congratulations, you have melted. Also, and let’s just get this out of the way now: who is washing jumpers like this? Because I’m not. I think about doing a wool wash and then sit down to let the feeling pass. Which works out fine in the end, because it turns out despite buying several of these jumpers over the years they are now all in a bag for the charity shop, including a luxurious cashmere Cos thing that cost me a million pounds (one hundred) that I have worn never. Never! Because big wooly jumpers are a lie!