What your choice of ski fit says about your overall vibe on the slopes

Packing for a ski trip is one of life’s most pathetic first world problems. You need snoods, leggings, woolly socks, going out tops, buildable layers, beanies, gloves, flasks, and most importantly— an outfit for the slopes that’s simultaneously fit for après and durable against the blizzard-one-minute-sun-the-next weather of the Alps. This shit is important. And whichever fur-lined cliché you choose will tell the ski school and seasonaires hurtling down the piste around you a LOT about your overall aura.

So, in case you’re wondering if your mountain garms are giving off the right vibe, here’s an extensive rundown of what your chosen ski fit says about you:

Napapijri jacket

You probably go to Oxford Brookes and think skiing backwards while holding your mates poles is peak comedy. Ultimately, you’re quite a nice (bit basic) bloke who will buy everyone a pint and pick them up if they fall off the chair lift. Honourable mention also to guys in vintage windbreakers who are, almost certainly, freezing their tits off in the name of fashion. Just here for a laugh x

White trousers

Snow is white! And you’re not expecting to fall down. But, girlie, you’re wrong. On day three you’ll get a bit (drunk) cocky and convince yourself the off-piste section of the black diamond can’t really be THAT HARD. Will spend the rest of the trip sad about the catastrophic fall that covered your salopettes in snow slush mud but get through it with many, many, rosés. It’s all big Fiat 500 / Exeter Uni energy. 

Belted red jacket

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You’re on a mission to pull and think channelling the red nail effect into your ski fit is just the way to do it. The belt, meanwhile, speaks for itself. You’re looking snatched going down this mountain by hook or by crook. Essentials in your pocket include: lip gloss, hair brush, cuticle oil and headphones. No safety supplies necessary when you’ve got lucky girl syndrome. 

All black everything

Your colour choice matches the pistes you throw yourself down. You have an app on your phone that tells you what speed you’re going and if you don’t break your record by the end of the week— someone is going to pay. Fundamentally, everyone is quite scared of you because you’ll either knock them down the mountain or break your own neck. You do look fit, though. 

Leopard print anything

It’s a bit AbFab but all in all iconic. You definitely snow plough every now and again and frequently ask the rest of your group when it’ll be time for a long lift and a KitKat. Secretly, you’d love to become an urban legend who shagged someone in a Gondola but don’t quite have the agility to get your gear off and on in time.

PLT / Asos / Topshop fits

It’s your first year on the slopes and you’ve opted for a wafer thin pink co-ord or a jacket that says SNO SNO SNO. You’re here for the table dancing and vodka luge and are uncertain why your mates keep trying to put you in ski school with the toddlers. At some point, you’ll inevitably get lost from the rest of the group and, as it gets dark, be rescued and driven to après by a mountain ranger on a Ski-Doo.

Onesie

You’re either on a stag do or just turned 14.

Dare2be

You simultaneously have no ski gear and no ski idea. Your mum took you to TkMaxx four days before the trip and it was either rummage for bargains or hit the mountains in your North Face. Seeing everyone else, you now wish you’d opted for the latter.

Reflective goggles

Is that the Stig? 

Ski suits

If your all in one is black with a fur hood, you shop at Zara and think Joe Malone candles are peak sophistication. If it’s got a jazzy pattern and you’re wearing a black headband, you’re a Depop girly with a vintage jumper and bang average ski abilities. Either way, you call it a day at three pm each afternoon and head straight to Folie. No shame in that.

Aggressively neon everything

Orange trousers, bright blue jacket: You’re the dad of the group and plan the piste route every. Single. Day. Everyone is sick of you and your little map and are plotting to feed you beers until you’re too hungover to incessantly bellow “First lift up. Last lift down!!!!” like some sort of snow dictator.

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