I wear fleece the way that celebrities wear fur. (Faux fur, hopefully.)
Sometimes, I drape it over my body. Sometimes, it lines my jackets. Sometimes, it pops out in unexpected places. Sometimes it keeps me warm over my party dresses.
Yet, most designers agree that fleece is not fashion. But sensible New Englanders who pump their own gas in bitter temperatures don’t care what designers think. They know that fleece is the fabric of our lives.
My town of Norwich, Vermont, in particular, should be renamed Fleece Country, USA. Even the most fashionable of townies still rock their designer jeans with a fabulous fleece coat on a Saturday night. My neighbors have fleeces for every season. (Fleece pull-overs for a late night summer bonfire? Absolutely. A fleece layer underneath a spring raincoat? Definitely. Fleece-lined pants for winter walks? Without a doubt. Fleece coats for fall apple picking? We’ve got red or green options.) Yes, in Norwich, fleece goes with everything and can go to anything. In Norwich, the fleece jacket is basically the little black dress.
Since it’s March, I’m relying on my many fleece jackets to get me through mud season. They line my closets in various colors, shapes and sizes. (I collect fleece jackets the way others collect shoes.) I’ll wear them with jeans and skirts and running shorts and dresses. They will accentuate none of my body parts, but they will keep me comfortable, flexible, and on the move.
And in my opinion, anything that keeps me on the move, can be machine washed, and can survive mud season is HIGHLY fashionable. Supermodels can keep their fur, but I’ll keep my fleece.