Free The Regal Rules for Girls by Jerramy Fine

York—I’ve seen my fair share of blizzards and secretly enjoy them. (I never understood my college roommate who used a special UV sunlamp to stop her from plunging into depression.) So when it came to London weather, I was hardly daunted—I mean really,
how extreme could it
be?
    Well, that’s just it. It’s not extreme at all. In fact, it’s extremely tedious in its
lack
of extremes. Bright gray. Bright gray. Bright gray. Light rain. Bright gray. Bright gray. Bright gray. Light rain. Repeat ad nauseam. (In fact, I’ve never understood why the British are so obsessed with talking about the weather, because the weather changes so very little!)
    For the first ten years, I was absolutely fine—
I was
in London!
Who cares what color the sky is? But, like Chinese water torture, slowly but surely it starts to wear on you, and slowly but surely it starts to drive you quietly insane.
    You don’t realize how
amazing
blue skies are until you are permanently deprived of them (but on the plus side, no sunshine means no sun damage, which means you’ll have great skin when you get older). On the rare occasion that the sun
does
come out, the Brits go
bonkers
: The parks are full of pale, pasty people in shorts and bikinis—all crazed with fear that if they don’t sunbathe
immediately
, they may never feel the sun’s warmth on their skin ever again (even if it’s barely sixty degrees outside).
    Which brings me to the small matter of it being approximately fifty-two to sixty-two degrees outside every single day—too cold for a sundress, too warm for chunky knits—forcing you to live in a constant state of lukewarm layers. Frustrating, but it can be done.
    Always carry an umbrella. Always.
    Always carry sunglasses. It may be gray, but it can still be bright.
    Neutral T-shirts and tank tops will become your layering staples (white, black, navy, and beige).
    Always have a coordinated second layer (cardigan, blazer, pashmina, or light raincoat).
    Learn to embrace knee-high boots and opaque tights (so you can still wear skirts when it’s chilly).
    Waterproof all your shoes (especially the suede).
    Take vitamin D supplements.
    Wear blush so you don’t look like a ghost (but not so much that you look like a clown).
“Fancy Dress”
    If you see this on an invitation, it does
not
mean to wear your fanciest cocktail dress; it means that you are required to dress in costume, and the costume in question is usually bizarrely themed (e.g., “Dress as Your Favorite Tube Station,” “Dress as Your Favorite Vegetable,” etc—the wackier the better and the more the Brits seem to love it). When I first moved to England, I didn’t quite understand the constant British obsession with costume parties. Prior to landing on UK shores, the last time I remembered going to a party where a costume was required (other than Halloween) I was in third grade. But in London I suddenly found myself attending fancy dress parties practically every month. I once went to a party themed “Dress as Your Hero,” and because I went as Grace Kelly, thankfully I still managed to wear my fanciest cocktail dress.
UK Sizes
    For some reason there are only four sizes in this country: 8, 10, 12, and 14. (Apparently larger sizes exist, but I have never seen them out on the racks. Ever.)
    I’m petite, but I’m pear-shaped, so I have to buy small tops and larger bottoms. In America, I wear a size 4 blouse and size 6 pants. In the UK, I wear a size 8 blouse and trousers in size 12. So as a general rule, double the size of what you wore in America and that will usually give you your size in the UK.
    Shoes can be even trickier because there are UK and European sizes and they are both totally different from US sizes.

Savvy Shopping
    If I were you, I’d buy most of my clothes in America. I know it sounds weird, but I’m serious. Certain American stores are good at producing relatively inexpensive pieces of good quality that are simple and classic, with a fashionably