Sometimes overwriting is good . . .

. . . and sometimes it's wonderful.

Whereas I'd say something like "He got cold and wet when he left the apartment," Arthur Phillips says:

He tried to angle his umbrella to shield himself and the journals from the majority of the rain, but his ankles were quickly soaked: he suddenly was wearing dark, uneven boots. A puckering puddle leaped and embraced him to the groin: he sported the particolored tights of a court jester. Passing cars twice massaged his traffic-side arm and hand with cold brown water. By the time he made it downhill to the river--a chaos of concentric circles in frenzied competition--he was cold through.

Prague, pp. 271-72