Baby, It's Cold Outside

Early Monday morning I donned my down jacket, earmuffs and mittens, swept the dusting of snow from my car and gingerly drove into Norfolk in the pre-dawn dark.

Inside the studio, the early morning crew grumbled about the cold and the wintry weather. But then one producer sauntered in.

Wearing shorts.

I knew then it was time to resurrect a webpost I wrote several years ago in December. It was inspired by my son’s lifelong refusal to wear winter clothes. In actuality, there are many men who believe that T-shirts, shorts and flip flops are year-round attire.

Most of us dress for the season, yet a stubborn segment of society believes in endless summer.

Here’s my account of just one:

On Sunday evening we headed over to the Sandler Center to see Ballet Virginia’s production of The Nutcracker. My granddaughter was in the corps of dancing Ginger Snaps.

It was cold, for the Beach anyway. Temps were In the 30s.

Please don’t laugh, Northerners. That’s frigid for these parts.

I threw on a jacket, a poncho, a wool scarf, knit hat and boots. The rest of my family was similarly attired.

Then my son appeared. He was sporting a crisp sports shirt, khakis and loafers.

And that’s it.

“Grab a jacket,” I said, gesturing to the coat rack by the back door bursting with an assortment of cold weather gear.

“I’m fine,” he said, adding the obligatory, “I went to school in Buffalo, remember?”

That again. 

Every time my son ventures out - underdressed - into the cold, he reminds me of the four years he spent in God’s refrigerator. He sometimes wore flip-flops there, he says.

I didn’t inspect his feet. But on the way to the car I realized he wasn’t wearing socks.

In December.

“Your feet must be freezing,” I exclaimed..

“Nope, they’re fine,” he said.

I thought my son, who believes that one set of clothes can take a man through four seasons, was unique. Or part of a weird sect of Beach guys who think that living in a sandy environment requires summer duds all year.

He’s not.

Turns out, he‘s part of a nationwide frigid fraternity. His condition so commonplace that the men’s fashion editor of The Wall Street Journal invented a Latin name for them:

“EVERY WINTER, the season’s most confounding species emerges: the Male Nojacketus. On that first freezing day, you can spot him standing on the subway platform or hoofing it to Starbucks, nonchalant in his meager button-up shirt. Even when this foolhardy creature can see his own breath, he may not don a coat, or even a pair of pants (Male Nojacketi adore shorts, especially of the cargo variety). Scarfs or gloves? He would never stoop to such compromising accessories. The most extreme variety of the species will bare his toes in flip-flops on days that could easily end in snow.”

Yep. that’s my boy. A prime example of male nojacketus.

Male Nojacketus sweeping the snow off a car in Virginia Beach. Circa 2016.

He’s actually partial to shorts, but knows better than to wear them to the ballet.

Fact is, my son loathes long-sleeved T-shirts, fleeces and down jackets. Sweaters? Never. 

I quit buying him warm clothes for Christmas years ago after sending sacks of tags-still-on outerwear to Goodwill every spring.

In a story headlined “What’s Up With Men Who Don’t Wear Coats In Winter?” The Wall Street Journal’s Jacob Gallagher set out to interview these cold-blooded creatures. Or are they warm-blooded? I can’t remember.

The reasons they gave for donning shiver-wear in winter varied. Some said they feel comfortable only in light-weight clothing. Others insisted that bulky clothes interfered with their mobility. Another set were what the author called “stubborn contrarians.” 

Still others, like my son, claimed they don’t feel the cold.

A massive Arctic blast is blanketing the country right now. As I write this it is sleeting in Virginia Beach, snowing in Newport News. Temperatures will be in the 20s when I leave for the studio at 4:30 tomorrow morning.

Hyperventilating meteorologists are already panicked about the remote possibility of snow accumulation, if not tonight than possibly next weekend.

No matter how cold it gets or how deep the snow, I know one guy who will be trudging through the drifts in shorts and T-shirts.

If you see such a man, ask if he went to school in Buffalo. If he says “yes” that’s my boy!