Between the Lines
In Search of Perfection I’M NOTORIOUSLY bad at controlling my body temperature. Nine times out of ten I’m either hot or freezing, which has lead to a fixation on layers. Maybe this will be the one, I think as I pull out yet another jacket that promises to keep me warm or cool at exactly the right time. The result is a closet stuffed with fleeces and puffies. But the jacket I come back to most is a seven-year-old Patagonia Nano Air. I bought it before I knew “gear editor” was a job. The cuffs are blotched with mystery stains, the right arm marred with sticky residue from a patch I’ve replaced more than once. Recently, for a time, I resisted the urge to wear it, stubbornly assuming that one of my…