Fur-lined hoods

Leadville. Not like any other place on earth.

I'd never been to the quaint town nestled among 14ers before, but dollar microbrews at the Scarlet Lady sounded like it would fit nicely into my new ski bum budget. Not to mention, my college buddy and Frisco roommate was talking up the outing pretty irresistibly.

Being that I'd moved to Frisco two weeks earlier, I didn't know the Leadville scene. That it's mountain men and women gathered together in a town that hibernates throughout the winter except when 30-somethings and under congregate at the bars at night. That it boasts $250 monthly rent for square footage a metropolitan wouldn't believe. That it's so down-to-earth, residents live under pool tables.

I should have known, being a former Rawlins, Wyo. resident, where going out means "uglifying," as a friend once said, to avoid the creepers. But I didn't. So, I showed up gaper-style in my down vest with its fur-lined hood. And a bright long-sleeve with earrings and makeup.

That night, I didn't know anything was wrong. That I had clearly labeled myself as an outsider, not only in ski country but in the place - Leadville - where the "mountain life" emanates like well-fermented trash.

Let's just say I got more respect when I showed up to the Scarlet Lady's microbrews night in my old Spyder under-armor.

Still wearing makeup.

Still donning earrings.

But an all-the-wiser local.