The extra layer
And heat is a subject with Otto. He doesn't need it. He works eight hours in a cold-storage room at twenty below in a fish-processing plant in Tromsø, and he doesn't complain about the cold. It suits him. His apartment in Kvaløya is at sixteen degrees — most Norwegians keep theirs at twenty-one or twenty-two — and he opens the window in winter even when it's minus twenty outside. When everyone turns up the heating, Otto turns his down. He's an arctic fox: his species shows no cold stress down to seventy below.
But he always wears one extra layer. Even indoors. The beanie almost never comes off. It's not about the cold outside. It's something else. The thick knit sweater with the roll neck pulled up to his chin, the wool always on, the beanie that doesn't come off even indoors. Taking clothes off in public makes him uncomfortable. The arctic fox has the most insulating fur of any mammal — seventy percent fine underfur in winter — and molts twice a year. Otto doesn't change his sweater: he wears the same one as if he'd decided to stay in a single season.
This sweatshirt works the opposite way to Otto: you probably do need the warmth. For an autumn day, for being at home when the temperature drops, for stepping out to run errands when you don't feel like hunting for your coat. The comes in handy if you're someone who keeps things on you — keys, phone, dried fruit. Otto carries dried fruit in every pocket of everything he owns, but that's a subject the [biography](https://www.yagopartal.com/animal-kinhood/otto/) explains better.







