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One brisk day, my nine-year-old niece and I were standing at my living-room window, observing the outerwear of passersby below. I was trying to persuade her to put on a warmer coat, maybe even a hat, before we ventured onto the street. In the country, you cannot infer much about the coldness--or hotness or wetness--by looking outdoors at, say, cows in a field. But here in the city you'll learn more by looking out the window than by listening to a local weather report, because who really knows if forty-one degrees means bring your silk-lined polka-dot kidskin gloves (Sermoneta, 609 Madison Avenue, at 58th; $89) or your Hotfingers Hot-Rap Mitts (City Sports, 390 Fifth ...