A friend who lives in Alaska once told me: "There's no such thing as bad weather. Only bad gear."
I remembered that when the chilly temperatures sent me to REI for some cold-weather gear, namely a fleece jacket (slightly more practical than vegan fake fur), a couple of warm but lightweight long-sleeve t-shirts, and a "performance top" for outdoor exercise.
My quick errand, however, stretched into a two hour odyessy, as I got lost amid all the Polar Fleece, Gortex, Windstopper, Capilene and Smartwool. Did I need an outer shell, soft shell, wind shell, rain shell or a zip up hoody. How about base layers? And what is a moisture-wicking matrix with thumb holes anyway?
One fleece jacket cost $25 while another -- much denser, but otherwise identical -- was priced at $250. Some fleece bore REI's "ecoSensitive" label, but isn't it all made from recycled plastic bottles? Or did they mean that these clothes will break down in an earth-friendly way? (REI has posted information about all their ecoSensitive products, including the pros and cons of using various materials.)
Fortunately, a salesperson noticed my baffled expresssion, and came to my rescue. He explained that the shiny, hi-tech, and presumbly rain/wind defying jacket in my hand was designed for training for a marathon in Minnesota, not walking the dog in the Albuquerque foothills.
He led me to a rack of soft-shelled, fleece-lined jackets designed to block wind and light rain. They were less intense, less expensive, and perfect for my day-to-day life, which rarely involves Alaskan squalls.
The upshot was that I learned a couple things about technical fabrics. A few useful pointers I picked up: