I had no idea what to pack.

And normally I wouldn't be worried, even if my overnighter was empty three hours before takeoff.

But traveling to San Francisco in February with random warm-weather clothing wasn't going to work for me.

The forecast called for temperatures somewhere in the 40s, lower at night. Partly cloudy, northwest winds, good chance of rain. And this being San Francisco, we could expect anything from lightning to locusts.

So what should I bring?

Good question — and one I pondered for nearly a week.

There's a 10-degree separation between knowing what to pack and having no idea. At least that's what my girlfriend and fellow traveler last weekend told me.

Just 10 degrees warmer, we both would've been OK. Long-sleeve shirts, jeans, maybe a leather jacket.

But now with the chill factor — and a frost advisory! — we just didn't know if the leather jacket was going to be enough, Scotchguard and all.

My boyfriend couldn't understand my dilemma: "If it's cold, take warm clothes."

What he didn't get was that "warm" has to be "cool."

San Francisco just oozes an urban chic vibe.

But to be urban chic meant no college sweatshirts, no Skechers, no concert tees.

I didn't want to walk around North Beach hidden beneath layers of insulation, topped with a striped knit cap circa 1992 and turquoise ski gloves. Not a good look.

But at the same time, I didn't want to lug around three suitcases and two carry-ons.

So if I wanted to blend into the city landscape — meaning, not look like a walking art exhibit — selecting the right outfits would be tricky.

You can't wear a fleece hoodie with knee-high boots. Or an Aquabats tee with a wool coat. They're like mixed metaphors.

Sure, I'm all about comfort — and, in this case, warmth. But I also don't want to find my picture in the fashion-don't section of Glamour.

Not that I'm a fashion maven — I don't even own a brown purse — but I do want to look put-together. This makes me seem more organized and satisfied with my life than I really am.

My boyfriend often wears pressed khakis with slippers, so he didn't understand. "What are you worried about?" he asked, exasperated, after I briefly considered a Gap run the night of my flight. "No one's going to care what you're wearing!"

He's right, of course. My girlfriends won't care if I'm wearing beat-up Vans with an Ann Taylor sweater set.

But could I pull it off?

So I packed the most essential item for trips like these: my credit card.

I figured I could always buy clothes there.

Reach Catherine E. Toth at ctoth@honoluluadvertiser.com.