In Chicago, there are five essential needs: food, water, shelter, clothing, and warmth; one can argue that warmth is a sub-need, falling under both shelter and clothing. Sure, you need a (dorm) room with a heater––or a fireplace, if you’re in BJ (!!!)––but a winter coat is a wardrobe essential here.
I grew up in a hot city in a tropical country, so when I say I am not used to the cold, I mean it: my comfort temperature range is the 90s (32–37° C). Imagine my surprise, then, when the big puffers started coming out in the first week of November, but I was fine in two layers and a fall jacket.
But, it was a very specific brand of winter poofies that came out.
Canada Goose is world-famous. Even in a city where in peak “winter,” one mid-thick blanket is more than sufficient, we’ve heard about the infamous luxe brand. But, before the first week of November, I’d never seen a Canada Goose coat––barring the time I walked by the Canada Goose store on Michigan Ave., on my way to The North Face.
The first time I saw someone with a Canada Goose jacket on, I did not know it was a Canada Goose jacket. My first thought was, “Is that person wearing a Nazi patch?” (I will post-face this by saying that in no way am I expressing an anti-Semitic sentiment, this was an honest-to-god, knee-jerk reaction.) The placement was the same as it was on the uniforms, the colors were almost similar (the Canada Goose logo has more blue), and my eyesight is––clearly––poor. It was only when I was walking alongside someone that I read the text on the logo, and my brain went ahhhhh.
Color options for Canada Goose (Source)
Because, at least on this campus, there is nothing distinctive about a Canada Goose other than the patch on the side of the left arm. Canada Goose coats seem to come out a lot earlier than others, and why shouldn’t they? If I paid $900+ for my coat, I’d want to make sure everyone saw it too. The irony comes in when you consider just how much that mega-expensive coat looks just like every other winter coat. Arguably, there are not many design elements one can change to make a winter coat distinct, but I find that a majority of the Canada-Goose-owning student body wears them in very subdued colors: black, dark blue, grey. There are no reds, no purples, no yellows, no camo prints, nothing that loudly indicates to someone that yes, I am part of the 1%.
When the breeze is chilly and everyone is speed-walking across the Quad with their hands jammed into their pockets, hoods up, looking down, the only thing you can see is the big coat. And that big coat is one of the sneaky ways in which UChicago’s massive socioeconomic disparity is best visible.
The University of Chicago has an affluent student population, to say the very least. But, the people who can afford Canada Goose don’t necessarily want to be recognized as people who can afford Canada Goose––and I say this as an outsider to the club, as someone who doesn’t own a Canada Goose, so take my words with a heap of salt––because in most situations, they would stick out.
In a neighborhood like Hyde Park, they would definitely stick out. (So maybe it’s a safety concern.) But, uniquely colored winter coats aren’t rare. (My fall jacket is light blue, and my winter coat dark beige).
Alright, maybe it’s an assimilation thing. The ability to afford Canada Goose is not particularly unique on this campus, but maybe you’re thinking, “I don’t need to be so loud about my wealth; well, not any louder than the logo patch on my arm.”
I would argue, however, I’ve seen more students in boldly colored The North Face jackets than nearly any other brand; this may very well be because The North Face and other brands just offer a wider color range, allowing students to find a color more suited to their liking.
Color options for The North Face (Source)
Science has always said that darker is warmer, but my mom’s train of thought when I bought my coat was: everyone’s wearing black; wear something different. My dad’s was more complex: it gets dark early, wear something brighter so you can be noticed if you need it––like when you’re crossing the Midway, and you see that one asshole driver barreling towards (at?) you. Perhaps that’s a justification for why we see more neutral Canada Goose coats. But, those coats are made for Arctic adventurers; I strongly doubt that the 50° F weather in which they come out necessitates the highest degree of warmth that you can get out of a jacket.
Before I wrap this up, put on my own winter jacket so I can walk out of this café in which I’m writing, I want to say this: in no way do I want to offend or critique any student who owns (or doesn’t own) a Canada Goose jacket. These are merely observations. Maybe you chose the color of your coat because it was the only one available, because you like it, or just because. Maybe you didn’t even think of the color of your coat before you bought it; maybe you just needed a really warm coat. I understand the need to stay warm, and I would never begrudge or judge you for it.
The Canada Goose patch is recognizable––I would go as far as to say famous––and it is undoubtedly an indicator of socioeconomic status in the same way that all brand logos are. This is just food for thought: what does your winter coat, and its color, say about you? Do you like what it says? Do you want it to speak for you everywhere you go?
