Where the thermometer confines itself to measuring air, the feels-like temperature ventures an opinion: it factors in wind, humidity, sometimes a phone's confident guess about cloud cover, and reports back a number that disagrees with the actual reading by anywhere from two to twenty-two degrees, always in the direction of drama. Actual temperature is modest by comparison, content to describe conditions; feels-like editorializes, and it has never once erred toward comfort. On a ninety-four degree day it will claim one hundred and six. On a nineteen degree day with wind, it will claim four, or occasionally negative four, numbers chosen with what feels like real enthusiasm for making the walk to the mailbox sound survivable only in retrospect.
Reliability is inconsistent across sources: one weather app's feels-like will differ from another's by several degrees despite drawing on identical raw data, which suggests the whole exercise involves more editorial license than the confident font size implies. Complaints about its accuracy are common and rarely resolved, since there is no external body that can be consulted to settle the matter, no feels-like referee, only competing algorithms each convinced of their own math. It performs best as a warning rather than a fact: useful for deciding whether to bring a second layer, useless for deciding whether to believe the layer will matter. Most people check it and step outside anyway, dressed for the actual number instead, which the body seems to trust more than the phone does.