Well done us. We’ve bloody made it. We have arrived, to suckle afresh at the bitter nipple of 2021, its milk iced. It is fitting that a year’s extremities, its Januaries and Decembers, happen also to be its coldest; over the last months we have come to realise a year, like a body, can be dry and plodding, and fat in all the wrong places.
I have become obsessed with staying warm. I have become obsessed with cosiness, with the task of keeping myself at a convenient temperature, whether walking the baby beneath pissing winds or watching a lone reveller through the window on New Year’s Eve. “Happy new year!” he wept, and I mournfully tucked the fleece around the landscape of my thighs. My specialist subject has become “blankets of the internet”. I have four opinions about slippers. And now a good season into Project Warmth, I am delighted to share with you my tips.
Layers: Instead of a classic vest and a jumper, consider a series of layers. Start with a lightweight guilt to wick moisture away. This should fit close to your body, snug yet breathable, a tight weave of tasks you failed to perform in 2020 and of people you didn’t call back. The goal is to regulate body temperature and move perspiration away from your skin with the use of leftover feelings.
On top of this, a sheer, long-sleeved anxiety. The secret is to trap air close to your body, using an insular material – anxiety is perfect, as it’s made of natural fibres and is lightweight enough to carry with you at all times, whether watching a stranger handle every single bloody loaf of bread in Sainsbury’s before sneezing near the eggs, or lying awake watching 3am bleed into 4am as you worry the patch of eczema on your arm and think about money.
Insulate by mixing and matching fabrics – experiment by pairing say, over-sensitivity with a nice warm dread, or my personal favourite, desire with disgust. Remember to stick to natural materials – synthetics such as politeness or modesty will trap heat, leaving you sweaty. Don’t confuse quantity with quality – a good, solid layer of rage (or, if you’re on a budget, disdain) will be far more effective than two or three uncontrolled sads.
Finally, choose your outer layer with care. It should serve to protect from weather, uninvited emotion and also have a place to keep your phone. Pick a material that enhances the layers beneath. Shame is popular, and comes in a variety of colours, as is fear, which has the added bonus of glowing in the dark. Consider ventilation – without it, the rage and anxiety will become trapped, condensing and multiplying. You need a vent. Despite appearances, the bulkiest feelings are not always the warmest, no – anger, while comfortingly massive, is less effective than an outer layer filled with your various griefs.
Tea: Drink tea.
Mask: After many years as a prop of the terrorist or simpler criminal, the poor balaclava has gathered a bad reputation. Luckily a pandemic happened and introduced the face mask to the western world, just in time for it to get really nippy out.
Talk to yourself: You are meeting a friend for a walk. Is this allowed? Is this worth it? Why does this park always smell of urine? Questions peck at the inside of your cheeks as you stand by the gate, blowing your hot, germed breath in time with the creak of a definitely haunted swing. And it’s cold. It’s worryingly cold. Your toes feel wet. Is that possible? Already? You pull your hat further down over your ears and silently curse, first your friend, then friendship itself, then this foul, sleety rain that is worse even for its lack of drama. Unfortunately, the way to get warm is to relax. And by that I mean, con yourself. First, tell your body there is nothing to worry about. You can take a bit of frost! Chill out, body! Yeah, that’s it, you can feel your shoulder muscles sink very slightly. Hey, you’re king of cool, you. You’re a cold-blooded animal. You’re safe, you’re a snow leopard, roar! Do they roar? Or more of a sexy growl. Snow leopards would definitely be up there on the “if you had to shag an animal” list. Dolphin, snow leopard, bear… And you’re warm. My pleasure.
Screaming: There is nothing like a scream to get the blood flowing. Consider length and pitch, as well as volume. Sometimes it takes practice to use this warming technique correctly, so I’d recommend living in a rural location having already cultivated the reputation of a village witch. If an urban-dweller with no time to scare a child with mutterings about the night, please attend the green space in the middle of your local roundabout. Centre yourself. Breathe in for the count of four, the scents of pine, petrol, the local branch of Lush; breathe in the cold awful air with its notes of trauma and broken glass, and then, scream it out. Scream it out. Let the decades of having held your tongue be replaced with heat and let the trees rattle with your ice. Happy new year.
Email Eva at e.wiseman@observer.co.uk or follow her on Twitter @EvaWiseman
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