For thousands of years, the start of a new year has offered a symbolic blank slate – a chance to reflect, reset and recalibrate. In ancient Mesopotamia, the new year began in March or April and was celebrated with a two-week religious festival called Akitu. Babylonians made solemn promises to resolve past year’s affairs by repaying debts and returning borrowed items. And the Romans later inherited this spirit of renewal.

Every January, we look ahead to a new year, eyes wide with hope. We declare that this time, “things will be different”. We’ll get new opportunities, new experiences and, most importantly, a new version of ourselves. We tell ourselves that for this “new you” to stick around, we must surround ourselves with newness. That means new habits, new routines and, inevitably, an entirely new wardrobe. But the more often I hear this speech – and witness the cycle of wardrobes haphazardly emptying and filling up again – the more I wonder: what was so bad about the old you in the first place?

Dressing for winter sports isn’t like dressing for any other sports. Usually, the less you wear – and the lighter the layers – the better. But when it comes to high-altitude style, it’s a whole different ball game. There are so many aspects to consider. For one, you need clothes that keep you warm and protect you from the elements. You need fleeces, water- and wind-resistant fabrics and functional details such as elasticated cuffs and zipped gaiters to keep out the chill. For another, you’re looking for high-resistance staples that allow for a wide breadth of movements and easy turns. Last but not least, you’ll want kit that keeps you stylish, whatever the conditions.

You look good. Not just for a guy your age, but for a man who takes care of himself, does his best to stay healthy, defy gravity and stave off a dad bod. Who’s proud of his success and gratefully enjoys his life. So, there’s no way you’re buying into the stale notion that since you no longer pack your “lucky” Speedo when going on vacation, it’s time to cede the spotlight to those who are younger, spryer and cheekier. If George Clooney, Keanu Reeves and Pierce Brosnan can still turn heads, why can’t you?

For thousands of years, the start of a new year has offered a symbolic blank slate – a chance to reflect, reset and recalibrate. In ancient Mesopotamia, the new year began in March or April and was celebrated with a two-week religious festival called Akitu. Babylonians made solemn promises to resolve past year’s affairs by repaying debts and returning borrowed items. And the Romans later inherited this spirit of renewal.

Every January, we look ahead to a new year, eyes wide with hope. We declare that this time, “things will be different”. We’ll get new opportunities, new experiences and, most importantly, a new version of ourselves. We tell ourselves that for this “new you” to stick around, we must surround ourselves with newness. That means new habits, new routines and, inevitably, an entirely new wardrobe. But the more often I hear this speech – and witness the cycle of wardrobes haphazardly emptying and filling up again – the more I wonder: what was so bad about the old you in the first place?