Winter is Coming

In the Game of Thrones sense of the phrase; winter is coming.

Ok, not quite – it’s Africa. Even in mid-July there’s a distinct possibility that at some stage of the afternoon you’ll be in nothing but a T-shirt drinking a beer in the sunshine. As a result, we as Africans live in complete denial of winter as a concept. Houses, restaurants, everything is designed to bask.

Then the icy winds start.

And we scatter. Screaming. Like the season is a Godzilla-like anomaly crawled out from some experimental nuclear incubator and is wreaking its solitary revenge on the planet we live in. Huddled below layers of goose down praying for the vicious creature to have its fill and be on its way to the other side of the wall (or hemisphere) where it belongs.

But when you do eventually have to venture out, remember this: one magnanimous perk of winter is the wardrobe.

For me, it was always about survival; do what you have to do to make sure that not a thought of a breeze can get in anywhere, and fight your way through hell till the mercury’s cheerily back in the 30’s sometime in September. Then I started traveling for work. January in Europe, February in Asia; and walking the capitals that embrace winter changed my perspective on it entire.

Layering up, when done right, is drop-dead sexy.

The French, clad in dark-hued wools and tweeds, cocooned in attitude, smoulder on the streets. The Chinese, in fearless bursts of vibrant colour and textured man-made fibres.

The message: Winter is supposed to be sexy. It’s supposed to be fun. So go outside and play. You can secretly still wait for Spring to return – just make sure you look fucking fantastic while you do it.

For Her: