On this island of pow the Camp Flash Anorak is right at home. Call this evolving toward bliss.
The Camp Flash Anorak may repel some style purists. But this unlikely hybrid-anorak has evolved into a go-to piece for our writer. He argues this piece should not be snuffed out by an unfortunate extinction event.
We’ve likely all met the old guy who, gripping his crusty jacket, battered skis, or cracked boots, will tell you without a glimmer of irony that:
- “They don’t make them like they used to.”
- “They just work for me.”
- “This new stuff is just a cash grab.”
- “Bring back the old stuff. I like the old stuff more.”
These men are cowards, Donny. They are afraid of change. No piece of current outdoor gear is outclassed by a comparable thing last produced during the Great Recession. Grilamid has left them long behind.
The quirkier gear is the worst. It’s bad enough when someone says their thrift-store rear-entry boots fit better. Sure sure. But sometimes, the ancient gear is whacky, too. It combines two things we have since learned are not good together (reverse sidecut and anything), or fails to account for something we now know (or think) is critical (our knuckles when ice climbing), or, worst of all, solves a problem we find comical. Age enhances the inscrutability of these relics: an exciting game.
To some degree, my snobbery is just fashion. Times change, and the next generation thinks tight ski pants are cool. And then the next generation thinks baggy ski pants and those weird, rectangular sunglasses are cool. Recently, I saw a friend, Sam, and his dad, Mike. I’ve known them since I was too young to have any taste. Sam and I, both 30, were making fun of how dumb the “kids” sound now. He works a summer camp for boys 7-17, so he would know. We asked Mike if we sounded that dumb when we were 7-17. He didn’t even need to draw a breath to answer. Obviously.
But there is a difference between fashion and evolution. Shaped skis are not a fad, Mike. Evolution is something distinct from the fickle winds of preference. Maybe evolution is just a hard-to-resist new fashion, a virus that cannot be stopped. Glossy catalogs and native advertising fool us into seeing fashion as an evolution when this year’s stuff is merely a darker red for Ms. Piggy’s lips. But the boots of yesteryear are a lesser form entirely from the wide stable of frustratingly narrow “1kg+” boots available now— not simply a change in topsheets. Evolution is real, even in the ski industry, famous for its lipstick skills.
Sometimes, like in real life, “the fittest survive” the fashion battles within the outdoor industry and spread their seed to all the ski factories. Everyone makes freeride skis. Cool! But sometimes—you’ll forgive my shaky understanding of evolution—changes in the DNA sequence neither win nor lose. They migrate to the periphery, claiming a dusty niche or barren valley for themselves—a place where these aberrations can hide from the genetically superior freeride skis.
I think the “skimo+” world is one of these barren valleys. It shelters its weenies from all sorts of evolutionary threats, allowing its inhabitants to grow slowly stranger, more specialized, less useful. Some of these genetic mistakes can only survive in this valley. Lycra perishes without the presence of other Lycra. They’re like those fish that taunt sharks in big packs, wildebeests, or whatever. Itty bitty skis? Their cousins, pretty small skis, have made it out and survived in the bigger world to varying degrees.
Maybe Dweeb Valley is populated with unique denizens, like ringtailed lemurs endemic to Madagascar. A great place to live if you’re a lemur. But, it may be an evolutionary dead end in the big scheme. Or maybe it’s a cauldron for innovation. A place from which freaks can be unleashed on an unwitting world. Like those heat vents in the ocean making badass little squirmy things. The squirmy things have taught us a lot about being squirmy.
I’d like to say I’m sorry, but that’s not true. Like one of those old guys, I have one of those old things I like that isn’t made anymore. You might think it’s a fashion dead end. I think it’s evolution from Dweeb Valley unrecognized. I skipped lunch to afford this thing because it’s so cool.
Style is in the eye of the beholder.
Like a super hero, the Camp Flash Anorak is easily removed to stow away. Yes, the pack remains on.
The beginning or the end: The Camp Flash Anorak stowed in a marsupial like pocket secured around the waist.
The Camp Flash Anorak
The Camp Flash Anorak is a wind jacket for 1) skimo racing that is meant to 2) go on and off over your backpack without removing your backpack that 3) stores in a fanny pack.
That’s three huge strikes against it, I know. But please reserve judgment. It does look unwieldy. I call it a “fracket.” For those keeping count, that’s four strikes. Camp discontinued it (recently!). Five strikes. That should be enough for disqualification in any ball sport.
Let me ask you this: What good is all that jacket material on your back that you sandwiched under your backpack? Does it trap sweat? And your hemming and hawing when the wind blows for a moment, and your sun hoody isn’t enough, but the fuss of throwing on a jacket is too much? Nobody wants to hear it. Haven’t you always wanted to wear a smock/cape kind of thing while skiing? The fracket answers all of these questions and more. You have needs unmet by the current crop of Houdinis and other pocket jackets. No other front jackets out there. The fracket is evolution briefly forgotten.
My friends, none of whom really like Dweeb Valley, always make fun of my fracket, just like how the Pope made fun of Galileo. But over the years, their groans of embarrassment have turned into groans of desire. My roommate Matthew is currently looking for a used one. And I was obnoxious about the fracket. Matthew’s interest transcended both my awful boosterism and his disdain for skimo.
The Flash Anorak’s back opening can be secured with Velcro closures.
I’ve found it most useful on ski traverses, but it’s a compelling piece even in the mini-golf course I ski all winter. It takes 10-20 seconds to put on from the fanny pack (pull UP but not OUT) and can Velcro around your waist/backpack for a reasonably wind-proof fit around the back panel of your backpack of any size. It has a ¼ zip in the front and rocking the back unfastened (cape mode) provides a little ventilation. The hood has a sort of mouth flap above the zipper to protect your lips from the biting wind. Another 10-20 seconds to stow. My backpack stays on the whole time. Billy Mays here. There’s also no interference with airbag function. And it works with my shoulder-strap water bottle, another Dweeb Valley emigrant. The Camp Flash Anorak comes in a single blue/orange color situation. Finally, it’s not waterproof (not at all) but remains surprisingly durable for all the trees and oak I’ve crashed through.
On both of the longer ski traverses I’ve done (week+), my friends without frackets have cramped and generally suffered from the malaise of too much sweating for too long. Of course, my fracket protected me, or at least that’s what I believe. We would stop for a break, and their porridge would be too hot or too cold. I was Goldilocks.
Just when you thought this jacket, anorak, fracket wasn’t ski mountaineering worthy—it has the good looks and function for these missions too.
Writing this makes me feel old. Please help me feel young. You can find a used one or make your own (it’s super simple; just Hulk-rip a baggy Houdini or another wind jacket, but backward). Maybe the fact that it makes me feel old means the fracket is just fashion, not evolution. No. The fracket does something other jackets do not. It’s not just for looks. Not at all for looks. I am right, and you can be too, if you just agree with me. Never freeze your sweat on a windy ridge again. All your sweating problems will be solved. Billy Mays here.
Just buy this thing. Or make this thing. Call Camp and be kind yet persuasive. This object will bring you a joy other jackets cannot. I’m depending on you.
Law school is lucky to have you Spencer. If it were up to me you’d be writing full time. This. And this: https://the-high-route.com/give-monogamy-a-chance/ and, damn – your article in the print edition. I really enjoy your work man.
Might as well pile on. I read this early today (a few times) doing some minor edits. And I just re-read it again after seeing your comment. What a fun read. There are sentences that downright slay. We are glad to have your voice here Spencer. And, yes, his piece in the magazine slays too—with some sweet images to go along with the narrative. And while I’m here, I might as well address Slim below. Yup, I bought 2 x M10 pants (just in case they go away).
Fricken love fest over here. Y’all aren’t so bad with the words either. Thanks for having me 🙂
Spencer, you are a great writer and I have loved reading your work. I’m piling on!
Yes, there is evolution that leads to better products, but there is also extinction of very functional, but not fashionable items that are meant for high performance in niche sports. See just about every highly technical Patagonia garment from the last decade.
Slim, while I would agree that something like an elephant’s foot sleeping bag only ever gets used on Cerro Torre, other ‘niche’ stuff does have more fungible uses. I use this stupid fracket thing on almost every ski tour I go on, as well as biking to school most chilly days. But generally i agree. the niche stuff is niche.
Sorry, I wasn’t clear. I meant “niche” as things like alpinism, ski touring, ice climbing etc. As opposed to dog walking, resort skiing etc. So stuff like the M10 pants Jason mentions, that are very well designed for moving in the mountains, but lack fashion for wearing around town. Maybe they just need to put a large trout picture on them. Seems to work for T-shirts.
And not to rip on just Patagonia: I was recently looking for some OR X-Gaiters for a friend, because I love mine. No longer made. I guess warm feet for ice climbing or ski touring is too niche.
Fair fair. I was chatting with a Sportiva employee for the demo day this season for the new stratos hybrid boot and he couldn’t stop laughing about how these sorts of boots never make any money.
This is the core question right? Do we tolerate patagonia selling ‘street wear’ to subsidize the stuff we buy or do we ask our stuff-suppliers to stay core (and unprofitable at all). Easy to forget that making and selling all this stuff is a business.
“Glossy catalogs and native advertising fool us into seeing fashion as an evolution when this year’s stuff is merely a darker red for Ms. Piggy’s lips. But the boots of yesteryear are a lesser form entirely from the wide stable of frustratingly narrow “1kg+” boots available now— not simply a change in topsheets. Evolution is real, even in the ski industry, famous for its lipstick skills.”
Prose like this is why I subscribe.