I sometimes think Icelanders spend way too much money on their looks: designer outfits, regular haircuts and highlights, trips to tanning and beauty salons, various lotions and makeup products and a broad selection of shoes and accessories.

Even if people wear second-hand clothing and look as if they were economical in the choice of outfit, chances are they may have paid just as much for an old garment as they would have for a new one at a much-hyped vintage store.

Children, down to the tiniest infants, are often dressed from top to toe in the hottest brands of clothing; young fashionistas bear witness to their parents’ exquisite taste.

In my youth I don’t remember caring much about what I wore, it was usually hand-me-downs—which is sensible children outgrow their perfectly good clothes so quickly—from my cousins marked by the horrid trends of the late ’80s and early ’90s.

My parents were mostly concerned with whether the clothes were practical and warm enough and my peers didn’t raise an eyebrow even though I showed up at school in baggy high-waisted jeans and a mint green and black unshapely sweater with an odd zigzag pattern. They wore similar kind of outfits.

Today, all Icelandic boys up until a certain age have to dress in a blue sport uniform like Sportacus, while girls want to wear the obnoxious pink of Stephanie.

LazyTown may promote a healthy lifestyle—which is commendable—but it is also extremely commercialized, stretching deep into the pockets of parents.

Not all parents give in to the demands of the market when it comes to dressing their children, of course.

My friends who are procreating like crazy regularly exchange bags of clothes which their toddlers have outgrown, only to have them returned when the next baby is born.

I overheard a conversation at the office recently where one of my colleagues claimed that it is less expensive for people to travel overseas to buy clothes than to do their shopping in Iceland.

Indeed, this seems to be a widespread notion with the vast increase in weekend shopping trips to destinations like Boston, from which people return laden with the latest gadgets and suitcases jam-packed with clothes.

H&M is probably Icelanders’ most favorite store (mine too, I admit). Even though its branches haven’t made it to our shores, 25 percent of children’s clothing in use in the country is from H&M, as concluded in a recent poll. No other store has as high a market share in children’s clothing in Iceland, RÚV reported this week.

One of the reasons for the store’s immense popularity is its pricing, which is considerably lower than in most stores found in Iceland. And so shopping there is indeed an economical option.

However (back to the conversation I overheard), another of my colleagues was not willing to accept that traveling abroad to buy clothes could be less expensive than buying them in Iceland.

The one who had made the statement reasoned that when people are shopping for hundreds of thousands of ISK (ISK 100,000 equals USD 810, EUR 617), the difference in price outweighs the travel cost.

At which my other colleague said she would never ever spend so much money on clothes, pointing out that the quality parka her daughter wears had only cost ISK 500 (USD 4, EUR 3) at the flea market Kolaportið.

Today, I do care about what I wear on most occasions but I’m usually not a big spender on clothes. Up until recently all my overcoats were presents from someone else and my collection of shoes is miniscule compared to that of most of my countrywomen.

My horseback riding outfit consists of torn jeans and sneakers, an old sweater, a rain suit I also used for walking or cycling to work, a hat of the ugliest shade of pink my dad once gave me as a joke, and holey gloves that belong to my grandfather.

My cousin (from whom I inherited most of the outfits in my youth), who is just as economically-minded as I when it comes to clothes, shook her head, urging me to at least buy some proper riding pants and boots, her husband adding that I’m very austere.

I like to think so.

But I recently took up winter hiking and after slipping in my brother’s too big boots and becoming soaked by sweat in my mother’s old non-breathable burgundy parka, my vision blocked by an oversized hat, I had to admit I needed proper clothing.

The outdoor recreation section in my closet was practically non-existent and so I had to cash out. Big time.

At my brother’s advice and my husband’s encouragement, I bought a new rain suit, parka, hiking boots, hiking pants, a fleece jacket, a multi-functional headband and two sets of gloves at Cintamani (the best, my brother says—he works there).

Ouch.

But, it was all worth it, I guess, because I already feel much more comfortable just walking to work, not to mention during the weekly evening stamina exercises in the slopes by Perlan with a group of eager hikers from the Icelandic Mountain Guides.

My next hike with the Iceland Touring Association on Sunday will really put my new outfit to the test. The weather gods don’t affect me anymore—I feel untouchable, no, invincible!

At the very least my transformation from dorky to über-cool is complete.

Eygló Svala Arnarsdóttir – eyglo@icelandreview.com

P.S. Click here to read Ásta's column on Iceland's outdoor clothing specialists.