
A nature-phobic city girl finds her way into the wild--sort of.
There are few things I hate more than camping. I love the outdoors--fishing, kayaking, perhaps a nice nature walk--but at the end of the day I want a hot shower and a soft bed. Yes, I know, this admission renders me dangerously close to being classified as high-maintenance, but I've tried it enough times to know camping's just not for me.
Up until now, this hasn't posed much of a problem. But it turns out my new boyfriend is a camping fiend. He's been dying to go for a weekend, and at some point I know I'm going to have to suck it up and be a "good girlfriend" and go with him.
In preparation for that day, I've been doing a little
location-scouting, and I actually think I've found the perfect spot: El Capitan Canyon near

After we decided on the destination, I started thinking
about what in the world I'd bring. I've never owned hiking boots in my life,
but a college friend of mine (who works every summer in
I feel like if you're going into the woods, layers are necessary, and one of them should be flannel. Maybe I'm taking this a little far, but a shrunken flannel over a floral Henley is exactly what I want to be wearing. Finish it off with a few pairs of utilitarian khaki shorts and that's pretty much what I'm envisioning my look being for

the whole weekend.
I'm fully admitting that this is a Hollywood vision of what camping actually is--I realize it usually doesn't involve a four-poster bed and massage facilities--but tricking myself with a little glamour is at least going to get me there, and let my boyfriend have his weekend in the woods.
Heather Summerville is the senior editor at
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