Another incidence of yarn bombing, but this time, it's personal. There's something about that first blast of forty degrees, like the beginning of the ice age, that makes neck-to-toe acrylic seem like a good idea. Also i'm starting a quasi-scientific rumor (ala bachmann) that lots of pattern worn together with absolute abandon actually generates heat. here's how: the little color molecules are busy running into each other and clashing and getting up in each others' business, and they get hot and sweaty, whereas you can be wearing six tent's worth of a solid color and the color molecules are bored and dispirited and like, i'm khaki, you're khaki, the whole world's khaki and they just lay on their khaki couches and let the breezes blow through like anything. they could give a crap. this is particularly true of khaki, my least favorite, and the laziest, segment of the color wheel. she is not smiling and wondering how the hell she's going to get away from me cuz i didn't even share my color molecule hypothesis. she's smiling at her yoga mat.