It’s November, and record-setting cold temperatures are hitting Alaska. Usually, we don’t see these types of temps until January or February. This cold snap brings to mind a saying all Alaskan and other cold-weather dwellers understand. “Dress for the weather, not the calendar.”

Alaskans understand dressing for the weather. Well, mostly. Sometimes I see teenagers strolling across the ice in flip flops and fleece jackets. I wonder, do teens not feel the cold – is their inner thermostat different from an adult’s thermostat? Or does fashion outweigh warmth?

Of course, I remember being similarly foolish as a teenager. When I moved from Arizona to Alaska at age thirteen, I’d never seen snow. But I quickly realized that no self-respecting teenager at the bus stop would admit to wearing long johns. Instead, many girls would wear pantyhose or tights under their jeans. One day as we waited for the bus, one of the girls suddenly started screaming and dancing in the center of our huddle. At first, I thought she was simply trying to warm up and deliberated about joining in the fun. But upon closer inspection, I realized a shrew (tiny mouse) was climbing up the inside of her jeans. Seems the pantyhose provided a perfect grip for its tiny claws. Slowly, the shivering shrew climbed up the pantyhose, seeking a warmer spot.

Meanwhile, my friend hysterically whirled in circles, stomping her leg. Relief came when the shrew fell out of the leg of her jeans and scampered away. Thankfully, all the excitement seemed to have brought warmth to the teenagers and the shrew.

This bus stop lesson taught me that dressing for the cold was more important than dressing for fashion. That’s one thing I love about Alaska. We dress for warmth – flannel shirts, boots, gloves, hats – we understand the importance of being warm, not cute. I always get tickled when pumpkin spice season hits. All the southern ladies post pictures of their first pumpkin spice latte while wearing boots with a thick plaid scarf wrapped around their necks in 80-degree weather. My goodness, who wants to put on boots and scarves at 80 degrees? They need to learn to dress for the weather, not the calendar. Or move to Alaska, where it’s cold enough to wrap a wool scarf around your neck.

Speaking of necks, while living in Russia, I learned the importance of covering your neck and tucking the ends of your scarf inside your coat.

One brisk winter day in Moscow, my kids and I headed to the metro (subway). It was rush hour, and the metro cars were jammed with people. Making sure the kids had pushed their way into the car, I was the last passenger to board. The doors closed, and suddenly my head jerked backward and banged the door. My artfully arranged winter scarf had gotten caught in the door. I tugged and pulled, but the door would not release its grip on my scarf.

Riding to the next stop with my head jammed against the doorway, I struck a nonchalant pose, hoping no one would notice my face turning blue due to lack of oxygen. This attempt was unsuccessful as my children’s hysterical laughter drew unwanted attention to my plight. I learned an important lesson that day. Tuck the ends of your scarf inside your coat and leave the children at home.

As I lived among Russians, I honestly tried to adapt to their culture. Also, I preferred not hearing constant lectures from babushkas (grandmothers) about not being dressed correctly for the cold. So I learned to wrap a thick scarf around my neck, securely tucking it into my coat. Turns out tucking the scarf inside your coat not only prevents embarrassment on the metro it also prevents drafts from going down the collar of your jacket. Of course, a hat is necessary, and heavy gloves or mittens. Then there are the woolen tights, which I discovered helped considerably in the cold.

Eventually, I realized that Russians were experts at dressing for the weather, not for fashion. They taught me many practical cold-weather lessons. I learned that buying vodka to refill your windshield fluid reservoir was cheaper than buying the premade washer fluid. After all, Russian vodka doesn’t freeze. But I’ll save my 101 uses for vodka stories for another blog.

So my Alaskan friends, particularly you Southern transplants, be careful in this weather. Dress warmly. Layer up. Be sure you have emergency supplies in your car, including a sleeping bag or blankets.

Remember to dress for the weather, not the calendar.

And never, ever forget to tuck your scarf inside your coat.