What's in the Fat Sisters? (cosy edition)

just thousands and thousands of words about thermals and wool and technical gear

The Fat Sisters rode again this winter! Ok, so it wasn’t a month-long adventure across Italy, Slovenia and Croatia, but it was a five day trip taking us from Bergen to Oslo. Both of those cities are in Norway. (If you want to hear about Norway and also the film Hook, the podcast ep is here) The brief for the fat sisters was therefore different, in that we had to pack for -11 degrees celsius and fit all those clothes in a bag the size of a house cat.

Every outfit needed to consist of the following: bra, inner layer CHEST (long sleeved top or t-shirt), inner layer LEGS (long johns or tights), outer layer chest (cardigan or jumper), outer layer legs (trousers), then outer layer general: hat, gloves, coat, two pairs of socks. How do you do all this, in a bag that – if you were dismembering a body – would only fit the head, and maybe two forearms? Here’s what we did.

CAROLINE

Outer layer general

You don’t need to hear about the hat or gloves, they were just hat and gloves. Same as everywhere. But the coat! Holy hell, do I love this coat. It’s from Passenger and it’s a Sherpa-Lined Parka in Chocolate. I love this coat because it’s cosy but it’s not bulky. I have had a few puffer/down jackets in my time, and while I love wearing them, whenever I take them off I feel like I’ve inherited terrible stepchildren from a partner’s former marriage. Why are puffer jackets so… everywhere? Why can’t I stuff them down properly in an overhead bin? Why do they slip off every surface, and dominate every coat hanger? Why do I feel like I’ve brought a great dane into a china shop, everytime I take off a puffer jacket?

Behold: a warm coat that you can fold down. Ok, I couldn’t fit it in the Fat Sister or anything, but I could hang it up without getting planning permission for it.

Inner layer, chest

You think I’m going to talk about the Uniqlo heat tech long sleeved shirts here. And listen, there’s space for Uniqlo on this list, and a lot of space for Uniqlo in my heart. But not here. Not for inner layer, chest.

The thing about travelling through a cold climate with a small bag is each item needs repeat wear. Which means you need to think about sweat, and what sweat feels like when it hangs around. If you spend a whole day going in and out of snow storms to then sit in perfectly heated cafes drinking coffee, followed by another walk in the freshly fallen snow, followed by some chowder, your body is going to heat and cool and rise and settle. You cannot wear a top that is 38% Polyester, 30% Acrylic, 20% Viscose and 12% Elastane. You will get stinky. Maybe not to others, but certainly to yourself. And we did not come to this beautiful country to be stinky to ourselves.

Instead I spent a lot of time in this COS long sleeve tshirt.

You read about clothes, you know why cotton is better than man made fibres, particularly if you plan to sweat. This COS top is the best cotton top I’ve had in a long time. The material is thick and safe and washable, and I wore it a lot, and I don’t think I was stinky.

Outer layer, chest

Remember Benetton?? What happened to THOSE guys? I did a town trip after Christmas to find a cheerful cosy cardigan. After trying on some in Reformation, I decided that financial solvency means you can have a trip to Scandinavia OR a Reformation cardigan, but not both. Anyway, I bought this cardigan from Benneton and wore it every day, with the COS top featured above. I love it and I know I’ll be wearing it for a long time to come.

Inner layer, legs

Uniqlo heat tech, hello! Welcome back into the fold! I wore heat tech long johns every day, and while I did worry slightly about all these layers around my crotch getting a bit… gynaecological… I did not get thrush or any thrush adjacent symptoms.

Outer layer, legs

These Lululemon trousers, from before!!

These were the only long trousers I took on our interrailing trip, and the only long trousers I brought on this one. They are perfect, despite the 3.3 rating on the lululemon website.

Footwear

I fucked this. I brought my Docs, which have gone on many a wet walk and held up ok, but the mounds and mounds of snow I was walking through every day quickly seeped through the leather. I also failed to understand, as Jen did, that your other pair of shoes should be indoor shoes: shoes that, at most, can take you from the hotel room to the hotel bar. (I should have bought these Ugg clogs, which still haunt me!!) Instead I brought my Camper brogues, which I love, but they’re a city-walking shoe, not a cosy shoe. Huge L from O’D, here.

JEN:

A really important thing to know about me, as context for this list, is that I am the child of several generations of military officers. Survival-trained military officers. Both of my parents have been dropped off in the wilderness and, presumably, survived on only their wits and whatever they could find or catch and eat. They are lifelong adherents to the notion that there’s no such thing as bad weather, only being improperly prepared.

Therefore, this list is dedicated to their wisdom and advice, which I mostly didn’t take, and which I paid for with frostnip (yes, that’s the less serious precursor to frostbite) on my fingers and also my arse.

Outer Layer, Legs: Hiking Trousers

Usually, I research my purchases very carefully, because I hate buying things unless I know that I’ll use them until they fall apart. These, by contrast, were bought in a panic two days before I left when I realised that I could barely fit my old ones over my hips (and certainly not over a pair of fleece leggings). The situation was so dire that I was prepared to spend the next five years wearing literally any hiking trousers that proved themselves capable of covering the lower half of my body.

And you know what? It worked. My new hiking trousers are reasonably priced; they’re kind of water repellent while still being breathable - don’t worry, you don’t sound like a crisp packet when you walk; they’re stretchy; they’ve got nice big pockets; they fit over a long john; they’re cropped for the short queens among us (hi) and they’re not black, which is a nice change. If you want a serviceable hiking trouser for - and I must stress this - adventures that aren’t in the subarctic, you could do much worse than the ACAI Elevation Pants.

Accessories for the Hands: Intense Mittens

Caroline has been very blasé about accessories. I disagree. There are few things you will regret more than the wrong accessory on a cold weather adventure, which is why I own my Intense Mittens. They’re from Lululemon, forest green, fleece-lined and stuffed with some kind of technical down that stays warm even when it’s wet. They have seen me through many hiking trips: I might only wear them five or six times a year but I love them. That exact model is no longer available, but this one looks like it’d do the job without costing hundreds of pounds.

What I would say, though, is that when you’re in cold places, do not follow the Coco Chanel mantra of taking off one accessory before leaving the house. If you do that, you could end up at the top of a mountain in very low temperatures with wool wrist warmers, rather than Intense Mittens. Your fingers will not thank you for this mistake.

Accessories for the Feet: Footwear

Finally, something I got right. You may recall that one of the challenges of the Fat Sister is that you can really only bring two pairs of shoes: one bulky one that you wear to travel, one slimline one that you can tuck into the Sister’s armpits. I am here to tell you that I have the perfect winter combination: The Boot Which Feels Like a Slipper and The Slipper Which Could Be a Shoe.

To start with: The Boot Which Feels Like a Slipper. It’s the Blundstone boot, and it’s possible you own it already. Well, hey, did you know that it’s good for snow and ice? It is! Mine are ancient and I had my doubts, but I re-waterproofed them haphazardly the night before we left and enjoyed five days of dry feet and not falling over. You know what else I enjoyed? Not spending upwards of twenty minutes a day lacing and unlacing Doc Martens (I’m looking at you, Caroline). And, because I am committed to coziness above all else, I enjoyed the sensation of walking on warm soft clouds, achieved by switching out the insoles of my boots with squishy merino ones from Allbirds. You can do this to any boot with a removable insole and it will immediately make it 150% better. You’re welcome.

Now, let us turn to The Slipper Which Could Be a Shoe. Personally, I believe that the traditional slipper, i.e. a flammable marshmallow the size of a clown shoe, is a crime against feet. This is why I’ve been buying the same slippers for the last decade, just getting a new pair every time the previous iteration disintegrates into scraps and holes. They’re leather Jutti which are very comfy and mold to your feet over time; they’re great all year round; they’re JOYFUL; and, crucially, you can wear them indoors, e.g. to your hotel bar or breakfast buffet, without anyone really noticing (other than perhaps to compliment their jazziness). You can buy some great ones here.

Accessories for the Feet Again: The Sock Turducken

The perfect cold weather accessory to your soft-soled boot that feels like a slipper? Two pairs of socks. Your foot should be like a novelty American Christmas roast dinner. There should be so many layers of dry, warm textiles between you and the snow that your toes are oblivious to its existence, even if other key parts of your body are in real danger of becoming frozen.

For my inner sock, I chose a little merino number from Pairs, and for the outer, a chunky Fairisle from Toast. I wore this combo every day. My feet were never in danger, nor were they stinky, and that’s something isn’t it.

Outer Layer, Legs Again: Covering Your Arse

This is my cautionary tale. Basically, everything else I brought with me on this trip was just a small selection of normal clothes plus a thermal base layer. Ninety percent of the time, when we were skipping between art galleries, restaurants, bars, cafes, and public transport, this was absolutely fine. I was powerfully unconcerned about getting too cold - it was a city break and I’m a hardy gal with good winter boots! There was also no way in the world I was going to panic-replace my old, too small long coat AS WELL as my hiking trousers. No, said I, no I shall wear my extremely warm hip-length Patagonia down coat. It is technical clothing. How could it fail me?

Reader, it failed me by not covering my arse. The hiking trousers and the leggings were simply not up to the task. I am blessed with a well-insulated behind: so well-insulated, in fact, that rather than keeping me warm, it just acted like whatever material the outside of a freezer is made of, and held in the cold. By hour two up Mount Fløyen, I could not feel it. By hour six, it was clear that I had frostnip.

It has been two weeks and my bum still feels the ghostly kiss of ice. Take a long coat with you, for pity’s sake.