Peter learns to draw down the cold of the Lonely at will, largely so that he can wear his heavy wool greatcoat everywhere, even indoors. (It's easier not having to decide what to wear; the rest of his closet is filled largely with identical button-downs and slacks.) The weight of the wool is a comforting pressure that, crucially, doesn't involve anything so tawdry as a hug.
His greatcoat is bespoke, of course; it wouldn't do to be dragged out of the fog by the un-ignorable scratching of a tag on the back of his neck. The inside of the right hand pocket is embroidered, black thread on black fabric, with some Latin that Nathaniel assures him means "On the occasion of your pledge to The Forsaken". Peter likes to run his finger over the stitches, any time he has to meet people face to face.
As Peter grows from a youth to a man, and fills out his large frame, he has the coat let out until it can't be any more, and keeps wearing it until it starts to constrict his movements. When the Tundra accepts him as captain, he celebrates with a new greatcoat from the same outfitter, with a few key improvements. Navy blue rather than black; even heavier weight wool, greased with lanolin on the outside for water repellence; lightly perfumed with clove oil to cover up the resulting sheep smell.
He's tempted to give his old coat a burial at sea, but Able Seaman Tadeas Dahl saves him much embarrassment (and earns a promotion to First Mate) by pointing out that wool floats.
So Peter consigns the old coat to one of his under-bunk compartments, trades his Oxford shoes for steel toed boots (Safety First!), and otherwise continues as he has always done: wearing his woolen armour everywhere but the shower.
This presents a problem when The Forsaken demands that he travel to Brazil. During the monsoon.
There's not enough lead time to commission a set of warm weather attire. Peter spends the voyage driven out of his mind by the unpleasant sensation of store-bought lightweight cotton trousers (he will not wear shorts), soaked with sweat underneath a set of rubberized foul-weather gear in bright yellow.
When they make port, Tadeas Dahl proves his worth once again by finding the least objectionable Hawaiian shirt Peter has ever seen: solid navy blue, with a woven-in pattern of (oh well) pineapples. Meanwhile, Peter heads to the business centre of the nearest hotel and faxes an order to his family outfitter in Kent: Linen shirts and trousers. Tropical foul-weather gear, in black, with that Gore Tech stuff he's heard about.
On the way back from Porto do Itaqui, when they sacrifice Sean Kelly to the Lonely, Peter personally locks the victim inside the machine room that houses the Tundra's enormous air conditioners. Afterward, he re-enters his cabin and sighs with almost orgasmic relief at the Arctic blast that greets him. It's finally strong enough to overcome the stifling tropical heat. He cracks a smile when he notices the best part: the air pouring through the vents is laced with tendrils of fog.