The temperature is dropping, the days are getting shorter, and every day I see more circular patches appearing on the sleeves of bulky, well-insulated jackets. That can only mean one thing:

Honk, honk, my friends. It’s Canada Goose season.

When the birds flew in for the winter of my first year at Kenyon, it took me a while to realize the circles I kept seeing on people’s coats were a brand logo. I thought they were, like, iron-on patches that were really popular for some reason. I wondered if I should I get one. Would the bookstore have them? Redbubble? The jackets themselves are so nondescript, I truly only noticed the logos.

Honestly, you could probably take your dad’s old puffer–– you know, the one he’s had since the early nineties and mostly wears while shoveling snow–– stitch a Canada Goose logo onto the arm, and no would know the difference. Everyone would still think you spent a horrific amount of money to feel relatively warm walking down to the KAC. DIY conspicuous consumption, you know?

Okay, sure, Canada Goose jackets will keep you warm And they’ll keep you warm physically, with the down insulation, and emotionally, with the cozy flush of economic privilege. And yeah, I get the appeal of a warm-weather status symbol. I myself once owned a pair of UGG boots and that made me feel like the baddest bitch in the sixth grade.

But.

BUT.

THOSE JACKETS COST HOW MUCH?!?!!

With that kind of money, you could get, like, five perfectly warm mid-priced winter jackets that will do you just fine and last years and years, as is evidenced by the one your dad has had since the nineties.

Or better yet, just buy a plane ticket to Miami and heat up on the beach.