The Answer Was Pants

I never knew that the answer was pants.

I’ve been cold for the last twenty years.

It’s a funny thing to say in the midst of global warming and intermittent night sweats, but it’s true. The dirty secret about living in the paradise of Northern California is that there is a particular category of person who is always cold. I am that category of person.

Why? Entirely self-driven reasons. First, older homes in California tend to have no insulation in them. Like — zero. And old window panes in Northern California shake when the wind blows.

Also, we don’t wear the right clothes.

We think Gore-Tex and a scarf will do the trick every day of the year. And still I shiver as the San Francisco wind cuts through my cotton sweaters and fleeces with various zipper and sleeve lengths. We’re always a little cold, but we tell ourselves that everyone else is colder, so, in the end we shiver but we win.

I don’t mean to complain. I own the fact that we choose to live in uninsulated houses made of straw and we also choose to wear cotton pants and t-shirts for more months of the year than is probably wise.

However, now all of this is changing for me. In August, my family and I moved from California to Columbia, Missouri. Everything, so far, has been great. I love the trees, the people, and the easy access to everything we need (except for Trader Joe’s) at lower prices.

But there is one thing that is looming that is, I have to say, freaking me out. And that is the winter. For one thing, how does one drive on black ice? And how cold will I be?

I know I can’t predict these things. I must wait until the winter comes and then hopefully find out it’s not as bad as my soft California brain is predicting. Maybe the winter sun will be toasty through my windows, and I’ll spend afternoons drinking something very warm and hygge (look it up, it means cozy) feeling grateful for the changing seasons. Or not.

Either way, I know that this first winter here I will learn a lot — about driving in slick conditions, but also about the necessary tools to survive a winter in the Midwest.

Like how to dress.

Because I have a sneaking suspicion that my cotton sweaters and thin scarves are not going to cut it. I’ve started tracking wool things on the Internet and I’m actually reading those catalogs from super-high-end ski gear makers who think we own a house in Aspen or something and want to spend $495 on a sweater. (Note: I don’t ski. Nor do I own sweaters of this type.)

I mentioned my fear of winter to a well-respected leader in town. She asked me how I was and how the transition from California was going, and I mentioned to her my suspicion that my wardrobe won’t really translate — particularly because my West Coast-acquired lounge wear includes mostly pants made of tissue paper from ladies’ workout establishments. The fabric is such that if you drag your fingernail across it, it makes a scratching noise like you’re a DJ in the 80’s. These pants don’t protect my body from anything.

And she had a solution beyond my wildest dreams. She said “I am also a super cold person, and the solution for me is pants from Eddie Bauer. They are lined with fleece and they are amazing. I wear them constantly in the winter.”

She mentioned that they are not flattering, but that it’s worth it because who cares what you look like when you are cold. So I went home and bought three pairs immediately online.

When they came in, I put them on and was amazed by the coziness. They are a new technology I have never thought of. Yes, of course, I’ve worn heavy pants while snow-shoeing at Lake Tahoe, but not indoors in the fall just because.

But I did it with these. I wore these pants all day and then all day the following day and the one after that. I wore and wore and wore these pants. Yes, they made my legs warm. It was like having each leg wrapped in a sheep (not in a gross way).

But there’s more.

My feet were warmer with these pants on. Like — just fine with only socks. There was literally more heat in my feet with these pants on my legs. And, even more incredibly, my upper body was warmer. Didn’t need to wear a puffy coat on top of a wool sweater on top of a long sleeve shirt. The sweater was enough!

Keeping my legs warm did the trick for the rest of my body! Thank you, unnamed local leader, for this amazing advice!

And she was right in another way, because flattering they are not. They are basically joggers (what we used to call sweatpants but for some reason no longer call them this) lined with the thickest stuff. It looks like sheep’s wool and is more likely plastic but of course I don’t care because I’m skipping around with warm feet! I don’t need all of the additional hygge accoutrement (how’s that for fancy language use?) although I’ll still drink warm things because cozy is my jam.

So, friends. Why does this matter? Why is a new pair of pants writing-worthy?

Because I solved a familiar problem using an entirely new tool.

It’s not like pants are new. (For those of you who don’t know me — I do wear pants.) For those of you who have actually lived anywhere but California, I know you know about good winter pants and you’re wondering why it took me so long to discover this solution.

Well — it’s because I’ve been trying to solve my discomfort with the tools that my community valued.

We spent thousands of dollars to have a guy shoot insulation into the walls of our 1949 rancher and had another guy install windows from this century in an attempt to get warm but I still froze. And fleece can only get you so far.

It was a more intense level of problem (colder cold is a’comin’!) and a new person who has been solving for it herself that made the difference for me.

By adjusting a variable that I hadn’t really invested in, I was able to cozy myself up.

Yes, you’re right. This reflection is about more than just pants.

Sometimes, in life, we throw the kitchen sink at things to try to solve, solve, solve, and we pile up more and more of the same solution when in fact a better tool solves for the issue more easily and elegantly than the pile of stuff we were doing before.

I think about the times in my professional life when I’ve been introduced to an entirely new approach that had the potential to make all of the difference. Like meeting Dr. Ruth Shaber and learning about the shortcomings of existing financial tools intended to support women’s access to reproductive health (i.e., philanthropy) and loving her idea that there might be a different tool that could better accomplish the goal — returns-focused capital put toward technology serving women’s reproductive health, or impact investing. Our second venture fund within RH Capital — led today by Stasia Obremsky and Elizabeth Bailey — just closed at $10M over our original target, and the team is supporting all kinds of seed-stage companies that need capital to move their science forward. New tool, better outcome.

I think about DICE Therapeutics, where I am a board member. The CEO, Kevin Judice, and his team recognized that there were too many important medicines that could only be delivered via an infusion and were therefore inaccessible to patients around the world, and took it upon themselves to develop a scientific platform to test whether they could address validated disease-related targets using the seemingly simple tool of pills. DICE just announced positive Phase I data for DC-806, an asset they are testing for patients with psoriasis. New tool, better outcome.

Or how about another — my friends Joanna Strober and Sharon Meers were frustrated that they couldn’t find expert care as they entered and moved through menopause. The tools they had access to were their primary care physicians or their ob/gyns — well-intentioned folks but not experts in the space. So they created Midi Health — an entirely new company focused specifically on the needs of women over 40. I can attest to the fact that this company — staffed with health care providers who specialize in menopause — has delivered real value to me. New tool, better outcome.

There have been other times in my life when using a different tool has made a difference. Like focusing on my elbows when I play the piano — somehow, this changes the force that my body uses and my hands ache less when I play as a result! (See previous writing about sing alongs…..)

This stuff may or may not make you feel cozy, but it does change the game.

Like a good pair of pants.

Okay, your turn. What moments in your life stand out because you were solving a familiar problem with a new tool? Many of us can be inspired to innovate our problem-solving approaches based on great advice from others. Please share!

And bundle up, everyone. Winter is here.

P.s. You should know that when my editor, Kellie Hotz, read this piece, she recommended wrist gloves that I can wear while I write. They arrived yesterday. Equally cozy!!!