Wind suit nation
Last week we went away to England for a week. In May we went away for a weekend, and during our absence, Spring flew into Finland and covered it with green for our return. So it wasn’t entirely surprising to return to Helsinki after a week's holiday to discover that Autumn had rustled into Helsinki during our absence.
In England I had prepared for the coming of Autumn. I made the rounds of a couple of vintage markets and bought myself a very nice fur hat, a cashmere jumper, and a Welsh woollen poncho, that I think is best described as looking like a wearable carpet. I got my hair fashionably cut so it would look particularly cute under hats and beanies. I spent the damp, cold, English days (even when the sun came out, those days managed to feel damp and cold) looking forward to the wooly boots and chunky scarves and russet colours I would wear during Autumn back in Helsinki. I imagined myself looking like a model in a contemporary knitting magazine. I congratulated myself on how fashionably prepared I was for the coming season … for the first time in my life.
And then we flew back to Helsinki.
It was late and dark when we returned and on our bus back from the airport, my attention was focused on the heavy, creaking leather jackets of the metal band sitting in front of us, and I didn’t pay too much attention to anyone else on the bus.
It wasn’t until the next day, alighting from our apartment into the bright sun of a new day, wearing some of my new fashions, that I was able to see what the locals have pulled out of their wardrobes for Autumn. It was not the sight of woollen coats or chunky scarves or tight little leather gloves that greeted me. Instead, I was passed by person after person softly swch swching past me in gor-tex pants and matching jackets. It was as if there had been a community broadcast while we were away, announcing that it was time for the Autumn uniform.
I met my friend, H, in the pub (who complemented me on my very nice hair). I said:
- Everyone is wearing swishy pants! Why is everyone in these swishy pants?
- Yes, she said, these are the wind suits. They are called tuulipuku (literally translates as ‘wind suit’), we are the tuulipukukansa, the ‘wind suit nation’. We grow up saying ‘I will not be like my parents and wear wind suits; I will definitely not grow up like my parents and wear MATCHing wind suits'. And then we grow up and have children and wear wind suits.
H went on to tell me about a particular pair of pants that she has spent every winter in for the last decade or so, a special pair of wind pants that have been worn by her mother and by her Grandmother before her.
So, I thought I was prepared for the cold, but alas, I do not have a pair of my Grandmother’s pants with me.
