Vancouver is a rainy city. Vancouverites covet umbrellas. When it rains, umbrellas soar in value.
Pssst.
A bug in your ear.
You know what sector of the global economy is expected to perform very well in the coming years?
Lean in, because it’s not often that I give out hot stock tips.
Umbrellas.
Yup. Umbrellas.
According to various market research firms, umbrella sales are predicted to be a vigorous part of the North American economy, as well as the European economy. Now, don’t expect the umbrella sector to perform as well as tech giants like Nvidia, but all indicators point to steady growth for bumbershoots between now and 2030. The projections are all over the place, but some research firms put the global umbrella market value at around $7 billion US, and they all show it reliably trending upwards for the foreseeable future.
The reasons for this are pretty evident: People are getting wetter. More people are relying upon public transportation. Climate change is making for some walloping rain storms. And they’re umbrellas! Easily lost, or forgotten, or broken. Or stolen. One research company claims that, globally, 1.1 billion umbrellas are lost or discarded every year. What’s more, we’re seeing the adoption of umbrellas for the purpose of sun protection, as well. And that makes sense, as the word “umbrella” derives from the Latin for shade or shadow — “Umbra”.
Vancouver is a rainy city. Vancouverites covet umbrellas. When it rains, umbrellas soar in value. People lose all scruples. I was attending a Cirque du Soleil show a few years ago when the skies opened up simultaneously to the show’s ending. I was standing at one of the kiosks with my umbrella on the counter when a woman reached over, snatched my umbrella and made a dash for it. The crowds were so thick that there was nothing I could do. My friend and I just looked at each other, and stated the obvious: “That woman just stole our umbrella.” You see now why my stock tip has legs?
Vancouver is well-known for its wet weather, although perhaps undeservedly. It actually ranks ninth as Canada’s wettest city, following Halifax, Sydney, Chilliwack, and Campbell River, among others. Prince Rupert takes Canada’s soggiest honour. They try to dress this up by calling Prince Rupert “The City of Rainbows”, but nobody is fooled.
A Londoner once told me that their city rivalled Vancouver for rainfall, but that was wrong. So very wrong. Our rainiest month is November, when we see, on average, 200 mm of rainfall, whereas November in London gets about 55 mm of precipitation. That’s like comparing chalk to cheese, luv! London rarely crests 55 mm of monthly rainfall and, when it does rain, it tends to clear up quite quickly. Vancouver can stay socked in for days. Who are we kidding? For weeks.
Between now and May, Vancouverites will curse the weather and pine for the dry days of July and August. The city will be polka-dotted with little, personal weather shields and petty crooks cutting their criminal teeth on minor property thefts. Those truly affected with Seasonal Affective Disorder may want to consider relocating to B.C.’s sunniest city: Cranbrook. This town in B.C.’s semi-arid mountain region reports over 182 days of sunshine annually. If it’s desert-dry you want, consider moving to Osoyoos — that city gets less than 10 inches (250 mm) of rainfall annually. But if you go, be sure to leave your umbrellas behind. Maybe at Cirque du Soleil?
This week’s question for readers:
Question: Does rainfall get you down?
Last week’s question for readers:
Question: Has casual Friday gone too far? Will we ever dress up again?
• When I was younger, I used to love GQ Magazine because I always liked dressing up, especially at work. There was something about a patterned car-coat paired with tailored trousers and a tweed blazer adorned with a flashy brooch or pocket square. One of my first federal government directors, Charles Mojsej, once said to me: “If you don’t feel great, start by trying to look great.” Good advice, I thought, and have followed it ever since. And speaking of GQ: Almost a decade ago, I printed out former GQ editor Glenn O’Brien’s patented Secrets to Better Living. One of those secrets? It’s always better to be overdressed than underdressed for an occasion. It will appear that you are going somewhere better later.
Nicholas Frate
• I’m always impressed and surprised by how a tie elevates a man’s look. Take the usual assortment of scruffy, young fellows and put them in suits and tuxedos for a wedding and they all instantly look like impressive, capable young men with shining futures. And all it really takes is a tie.
S. Munro
• After I left university and decided to continue my education at BCIT, I found out that the school had a dress code. For men, this meant wearing a necktie, dress shirt and pants. I thought this was a great idea. It made me feel more professional. As a result of this dress code, I continued to wear a necktie through most of my professional career, even though I was almost always the only one wearing one in the engineering department. I did notice, during my many job interviews over the years, that most interviewers did not wear ties, and secretly thought to myself, “They’re underdressed for this interview.” Eventually, during the latter part of my career, I was able to work from home, and for many years, I still wore a tie, to signify that I was going to work, even if my office was only a few steps down the hall.
So, no, the tie is not a casualty of the pandemic. Its use in professional circles (and I include engineering in this) has been declining for years. A recent visit to BCIT for my 50th anniversary confirmed they no longer have a dress code. Pity.
Terry Edwards
• At best, casual Friday is now a t-shirt and jeans. At worst, it’s cargo shorts, flip flops and a baseball cap. “Theme Fridays” — such as Hawaiian shirt day — at least bring buttoned and collared shirts into the workplace at the cost of retina-assaulting colours and pelicans holding pina-coladas. Let’s re-invest in khakis and spread collar shirts, please.
Bill McCloskey
• I am sad to see the shift to such casual clothing in our culture. Dressing up is a chance to feel special and also to show those you are with that their presence is a special occasion for you. The last bastion of formal dressing appears to be VSO concerts at the Orpheum, where you still see sequins, strapless gowns and the occasional tie. I hope that tradition continues.
Fiona Lewis
• In 1948, age nine, proudly in my Cub Scout uniform. Carefully placed around my neck is the official Cub tie, the Neckerchief. In 1958, age 19, I wore a sports jacket and tie just to go to the movie theatre. In 1987, age 48, second marriage, first and last time in a tuxedo and bowtie. In 2008, age 69, it was my 21st wedding anniversary. Last time in a jacket and tie. Last time in a shirt with buttons. Welcome to 2024, age 85. Spring and summer: knee-length jeans and a golf shirt. Never have played golf. Never will. Fall and Winter, full-length jeans, a golf shirt, and a sweater.
John (Jack) Lancaster
• I had to wear a suit and tie my entire working life. I retired over 23 years ago and swore never again would I wear either. However, I received a nasty speeding ticket a few years back and, wishing to dispute it in front of a judge, thought I would impress by looking respectful and smart, so I hauled out my old business attire and wore it to court. Hah! Of the 20 or so people coming up in front of the judge, I was the only one even wearing a tie. Ripped jeans, t-shirts, gum-chewing 20-somethings — obviously no-one else felt it necessary to show respect to the man on the bench. Don’t think it bothered him either way, but at least he was wearing a suit and tie. Oh, and I got off with a small fine.
Geoff Eldred
• The most egregious fashion statement must be the baseball cap, worn backwards or forwards, not on a farm or a baseball diamond, but in a white-tabled restaurant or a trendy coffee shop. It’s still an atrocious sight — and worse is if it’s sweat-stained. Last week, we ate at a neighbourhood Italian restaurant, and seated near to us was a guy wearing said cap throughout his expensive meal, as well as his fleece zip-up jacket. His female dining partner didn’t even blink. I’ll always remember my mother as she lay dying, a visiting grandson was told when she opened her eyes: “Remove that cap.“ Sums it up for me.
Jo-Ann Zador
• I love the look of a well-fitting suit with a tailored shirt and a silk tie. But it’s a look that is seldom seen. Sports jackets, casual woven ties and department store rack shirts and golf shirts are the norm. My guy seldom dons a jacket and tie, unless he’s heading to a funeral or a wedding — at our age, the former happens much more frequently. Sartorial elegance only lives on the screen, or in magazines these days. Such a pity because clothes do make the man. In a very attractive way.
Terri Clark-Kevton
• My man looks absolutely handsome with his suit, shirt and tie. We went dining and dancing a week ago at the Harrison Hot Springs Copper Room. I loved looking at him with his tie, and yes I for sure would miss the “snap” they add to a man’s appearance. We celebrated our 60th anniversary and, of course, grew up with men wearing a tie when a special event called for it. It makes our date special by dressing up a bit. Keep on wearing your little black dress, Jane.
Carla van Velze
• My husband at least agreed to wear a tie to weddings and funerals. Now, even that has gone. A recent memorial service I attended at Christ Church Cathedral in downtown Vancouver for a prominent man, had a shocking number of men looking like they were going golfing. Bring back the ties. They make men look more credible.
Jean Lawrence
• In a lifelong career in advertising sales, when pitching a new media plan in any local ad agency, while I knew the bulk of my audience would be casual, I wore a well-tailored suit, crisp shirt and tie — yes, I can tie a Windsor knot. I held the room, got my points across and, more often than not, got the sale. My clothes stated I was in charge. My father’s credo — bless his soul — was that the first thing people see when you walk in their office is the shine on your shoes.
John Voiles
• Way back in the 1960s, our school’s dress code required the boys to wear a tie flush with a buttoned shirt collar. I found this manifesto to be suffocating, both literally and figuratively, and so I would wantonly flaunt this edict by wearing my tie several inches below my unbuttoned collar. This led to a myriad of warnings and detentions in the school’s relentless, but futile, attempt to quell my rebellious spirit. To this day on the rare occasion that I am required to dress formally, I notice that the tie has crept closer to the still unbuttoned collar. I guess that’s progress.
Avrum Miller