When we think of the Black Rock City we tend to think of the insufferable heat and unbearable sun. It can be hotter than Hades up on that playa and refuge is fleeting — perhaps some shade and a cold drink, or a sprint behind the water truck, will cool you off. But like everything at Burning Man it lasts only for the moment.
The first year I went to Burning Man it was scorching during the day and balmy at night. I made due with a tiny sweatshirt that I donned late in the evening. The next year I headed to BRC loaded down with hot pants, an electric fan and a secret stash of Cherry Garcia on dry ice. And I froze my ass off.
I was not prepared for the wind and cold of Burning Man 1999. At night I wore every article of clothing I’d packed, topped with an ugly grey hoodie. The 2000 event was downright blustery, even colder and wetter. But in 2000 I was prepared! That was the year the fashion tide turned to fur, when our collective unconscious zeroed in on form and function.