Green pants means it's spring, circa Paris 2013

• ~300 words • 1 minute read


It's decidedly Spring here in Oregon. Cherry blossoms, blooming smells, frequent rains ((Rain in Portland is hardly an event confined to any particular season, but they take on a nicer demeanor in the springtime. They're less chilly, the emerald-greens of the trees, plants and things coming to life make for a nicer contrast to the perpetually gray, overcast skies.)) and the promise of what is always the nicest summer weather in the world.

There is something about being farther north ((We're farther north than Boston & New York, which tends to surprise people for some reason.)), in a cold and rainy climate that encourages people to dress in a way that's rather... muted. A shuffle through my wardrobe reveals many shades of gray, dark blues, blacks, occasional greens. The super-amazing, worthy-of-a-thousand word shoes I picked up specifically for the purpose of hiking over 5 continents, through sand, snow, rocks and ruins can't even escape this color scheme.

Even the tank-top I picked up in Zanzibar last year is gray with black lining, for crying out loud.

When I was in Paris last spring though I noted the much bolder colors in the way people dressed, particularly men:


I may draw the line at green pants, but it's inspired me to consider adding a little more color to my wardrobe.

For contrast, my appearance circa the time I was visiting (Don't worry, I got a haircut very shortly after this picture after letting everything kind of run amok between Brazil and Iceland. My theory: cold weather makes people crazy. Certainly me.):