Two years ago I began a search for something that didn’t exist. I wanted a fleece that would meet all of the following criteria:
1. It had to be warm. No microfleece or powerstretch here. This thing had to be my excuse for leaving the parka at home for everything short of a full-blown arctic expedition.
2. It had to make me look like I had just skied Tuckermans’s Ravine backwards. The Chris Sharmas, Eric Jacksons, Ed Veisteurs, and Bear Grylls of the world don’t wear Reebok or even Columbia. They wear outdoor-elitist brands with arcane names like Arcteryx, Patagonia, Wild Things, and Marmot. I wanted something that would fly under the radar for most people, but would shine like a beacon to the outdoor nerds around me and make them say, “he’s one of us.” Incidentally, this would mask the fact that I lacked anything in the way of real elite outdoor skills.
3. It had to be discounted by at least 30%. I’ve lived almost all of my income-bearing life in a post 9/11 world and as such I have developed a complex about discounts. I can’t buy without them. Seriously, what do shopping malls even exist for anymore? I enter boutiques only to duck my way past the well-lit displays to find the dreary corner where they keep the clearance products. 10% off? That’s only for the people that don’t care about how they spend their money. 20% off? Oh please. That’s the 2012 equivalent of full price. 30% off? Now I’ll consider it, but I’m going to walk out of here feeling like I got hosed. At 40% off, I’ll look hard, and debate for a while how likely this product is to show up on Steep&Cheap.com, Woot.com, or Craigslist, and then walk away empty-handed with a determination to wait until it gets discounted just one more time. You guessed it. I don’t successfully buy much.
