First and foremost, it requires layers. I don't do layers. When it comes to dressing in temperate climes, I'm more of a little-black-dress girl than a camisole-under-a-blouse-under-a-waistcoat-with-a-scarf-and-an-Isabel-Marant-jacket girl. Less is more is my fashion credo, which doesn't quite cut it at -25c.
My compromise was to go for a streamlined silhouette, with a super-warm, super-lightweight jacket from The Northface. Wearing smart-wool and a thick, non-fleecy fleece underneath, I was toasty. I was also, I admit, a tiny bit Russian-ish in that 'shiny fabric' kinda way.
Alas, 'streamlined' was not meant to be. Like the enormous boots pictured above, the snowpants I was given by our guides were of epic proportions. Check out the shot below. I'm wearing them over my normal snowpants AND the whole shiny Russian ensemble. I could have fit two more people and a ukulele in there with me, and nobody would have have been the wiser.
Then came the jacket.
Arctic dog-sledding was bound to require some specialist gear, but HUMONGOUS was not an anticipated attribute.
That's me, two people and a ukulele, behind a team of strong and will-full Alaskan huskies. I was so pissed-off. Those bitches were more streamlined than me.
Style File Followers Take Note:
1. No bitches (not even me) were harmed in the making of this post. All the dogs were extremely well-cared for. The people that organised our trip - Northern Huskies Sled Dogs - maintain animal welfare as their top priority, which sadly can't be said for all organisations that run sled-dogs. If you want to do it (and I urge you too - it's an incredible experience) make sure you do it right, with these guys.
2. Since this was Lapland, one of the other people in my snowpants was Santa Clause. That's how big they were.
3. The second person came with a ukulele.
4. Stay tuned for Part III in this series of An Arctic Style Survival Guide posts. (I'm gonna milk this, dagnabit.)