As with many of my previous fashion experiments (remember the farm animal vest?), my history with winter whites falls into the category of 'it seemed like a good idea at the time'. Most notably, about a decade ago I invested in the ivory coat of my dreams. But the dreams quickly became nightmares when my head-to-toe goose down monstrosity created a Michelin man vibe that garnered some serious stares wherever I went. Chalk it up to the missteps of youth.
That's the trouble with winter whites, though. Worn right they're striking, sleek, and subtly sexy. Worn wrong—which is oh so easy to do—they call to mind cotton swabs, snowballs, and Stay Puft. Not to mention the fact that unless you bathe in stain repellant before leaving the house, the rigors of daily life transform dazzling to dingy at the drop of a wineglass.
But. If at first you don't succeed, whine about it then try again. I'm determined to get this winter white thing once and for all. So I'll be choosing clean-fitting pieces with a focus on texture and material, and I'll be breaking up the polar bear in a blizzard effect with shades of heather grey and black. And if all else fails, at least I'll have another story to tell.