Women of Auckland, TELL ME YOUR SECRETS

For the 13th day in a row, it is raining in Auckland. (I exaggerate; it didn't rain last Friday.)

I decided to wear cute (though still comfortably sensible) shoes today instead of my usual nerdy rubber boots. Though very practical, the boots make me feel like a touristy dork. They are also a hand-me-down from my brother six years ago, if that's any indicator on their level of style.

I'm usually okay with looking like a touristy dork, but I wanted to make a good impression in my first Magazine Journalism class today. Most of my journalism classes have been predominantly female, but magazine journalism is especially so: 3 men and 21 women, not including my professor. Even the men make me feel like I should consider wearing make-up to class (not to impress them but to compete with their beauty). And of course, they're all Kiwi, and tall, and sassy, and skinny, and beautiful, and apparently, water resistant!

You see, even after 13 days, I still don't have a knack for not entering class looking like I just got sunk in a dunk tank. I always arrive just on time, huffing and puffing, shoes squeaking (even the cute ones), jacket dripping. After I remove my fogged-up glasses and awkwardly dry them on my undershirt-- the only garment I'm wearing that's not soaked--while making a lot of noise, I can see people trying to ignore me as I effectively take up three desk spaces with all the stuff I find necessary to carry with me all day, not to mention my two sopping jackets. Once I'm finally settled in, the lecturer has inevitably began speaking and I realize I don't have a pen in hand, so I spend a few more minutes making noise before I actually get to take any notes.

What is the secret, you beautiful non-Americans? I suppose I could gain a few inches by adopting your style of wearing heels to class, but I can't even fathom that. How do you do it? Walking in heels is a necessary evil-- I understand that beauty is pain and it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make for special occasions (New Year's in Munich, hurricane rains for Prom). But to class? I commend you. I admire you. I want to know how it's done.

Women in this city have individual styles for certain, but most girls favor short dresses over leggings or tights with towering Maryjanes, Victorian-chic, kitten-heeled ankle boots or flat-yet-clicky, knee-high leather boots. Very few of them wear raincoats, donning instead slouchy sweaters or cropped blazers. Though most of them carry umbrellas, they honestly seem to repel the precipitation. But with AUT situated on a hill, and rain 20 hours a day, I can't imagine not breaking an ankle or even just putting a run in my tights on a daily basis.

I wear the same jeans every day, some boring and scrubby t-shirt, my brother's old boots, a fleece or a hoodie, and my lifesaving rainjacket that shines constantly form rainwater. Even if I did carry an umbrella, I would be identifiably streets away as a small-town American girl.

Good thing they can't see very well though the sheeting rain.

Or have they overcome that, too?