I know that NYC hasn’t been disgustingly cold this season, but someone’s still got the wintertime blues (that “someone” is me). This time of year, I always turn into a humongous B– cackling at any poor soul who dares approach me as I perform my cold weather rituals of swaddling

Ponchos: the wave of the future? Hardly. Nevertheless, the comfy paunch-concealers hold a loyal and devoted following spanning some pretty disparate groups: stoners, moms, racially insensitive restaurant mascots. They’re pretty much the original Snuggie – a little more abrasive, perhaps, and shorter, but cut from the same proverbial cloth –