A full-body survival stack built for the Shelf's acid-laced downpours. The outermost layer is a knee-length anorak cut from salvaged industrial tarp material — once corporate safety-orange, now faded to a streaky rust-and-cream, with mismatched patches of rubberized canvas heat-bonded over the shoulders and collar where the acid eats fastest. Underneath sits a dense thermal pullover in charcoal wool-synth blend, the left sleeve replaced entirely with a different fabric — darker, heavier, clearly scavenged from something else. Cargo trousers in faded olive feature six pockets, two of which are sealed with mismatched zippers, one with a strip of silver self-repair tape holding the seam together at the hip. The legs are tucked into calf-high boots with soles that have been rebuilt so many times the tread is a patchwork of different rubber compounds — black, grey, and one strip of deep red. A wide salvaged neoprene neck gaiter hangs loose around the throat, ready to pull up over the nose and mouth when rain hits. Fingerless gloves in cracked synthetic leather cover both hands, the right one reinforced across the knuckles with a strip of chrome salvage — a discarded aug-brace repurposed as protection. A battered wide-brim hat in waxed cotton, stained dark at the crown, completes the silhouette.