As much as I like the idea of the gauzy nakedness usually associated with fairies and queens of the warmer months, winter had a kind of intense appeal to me.
It was probably just rays of practical logic, systematically bursting my childlike imaginative enthusiasm, letting me know that naked was probably never going to be my forte and that being as summer is like a nanosecond on the yearly timeline of programmed seasons for my life, snow was a much more practical choice. Failing in any required area for a fairy queen was pretty much going to put me out of the running. It was like being a skater. No matter how great your spins are, or your triple toe loops, if you can't nail the salchow, you are never going to make the Olympic podium. One has to be able to carry a crown on top of your head without it falling off, and anyone who can fly, pretty much is guaranteed a fairy queendom. Oh, and if your butt crack has a tendency to eat the lace ... forget even making the top ten. Skaters butts must be able to carry off lace.