The cold in Britain isn’t like other colds in other countries. It’s damp and lingering and feels far worse than the minus- twenty arctic blast I experienced in Stockholm one winter. Perched miserably on a bus stop in Manchester on a January evening while wearing what I thought was a sufficiently warm winter coat, I felt the chilly fingers of British winter pass through my body, set up residence in my bones, and beckon forth greater chilly cold fingers to join them.
That cold. Next to me stood a woman who had half my coats but 100 times more sense because she looked like she could comfortably take on Everest in whatever she was wearing. Spotting my miserable shivering, she simply said, “You’ve got the wrong layers on, love.” Oh, how correct she was.
I needed to rethink my layers. So far, most articles telling you how to dress warmly this winter have taught you how to layer for places with actual winters.
Areas where it does properly get cold but remains stupidly dry, where a fluffy down jacket really works.
Our climate is not like that. Most of our winter lurks in the limbo of 1-7° being chilly and wet and comes with bonus wind that seems to whip straight at you, as if our weather genuinely has bees in its collective bonnet. I’ve spent years layering against British winter through good old trial and spectacular error – not to mention at least three horrendously embarrassing New Year’s Eves where I looked cute in photos but couldn’t feel my fingers.
Before we begin, let’s get this out of the way. Layering for British winter doesn’t mean one big layering. It means layers within layers.
Layers that trap heat. But most importantly, they move moisture away from your body. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about layering in this godforsaken isle, it’s that you need to pay particular attention to base layers.
It’s so easy to stuff ourselves with padding, but forget our clothes have to deal with our body constantly producing heat (and sweat, gross) too. When that moisture from your skin gets trapped next to your body in our soggy weather, you’re asking for that miserable damp-but-still-chilly feeling that is the bane of a British winter. Start with the right base layer and you’ll win the winter layering game.
Gone are the days of cotton t-shirts being your go-to underneath everything. As with most winter-related garments, cotton absorbs moisture and generates nowhere near enough heat to counter our climate. When your t-shirt gets wet from fifty paces, you’re straight back to clammy-and-freezing.
Instead, invest in decent merino wool t-shirts. Ok, before you freak out, I know what you’re thinking. First of all, they’re bloody expensive.
Secondly, they look ridiculous. Trust me, they’re worth it. Merino wicks moisture without feeling damp, creates heat even when wet, and – bonus for folks who live in cities and dress smart – doesn’t smell nearly as bad as normal wool after you’ve been sat on the tube all day.
Speaking of which, I own three lightweight merino t-shirts that see me right for 95% of winter. Thin enough to wear under other shirts without adding bulk but makes such a difference to your overall warmth. On days I know I’ll be really facing the brunt of winter, I’ll upgrade to my heavier-weight long-sleeve version.
There’s a world of difference between starting your layering with cotton vs starting with merino. Your mid-layer is where you can get a bit more expressive with what you wear, whilst still fulfilling a technical purpose; to provide insulation. Basically, knitwear.
As bastions of a) horrible weather and b) the historic wool trade, we’re actually pretty good at knitwear. Lambswool, Shetland wool, cashmere. They all work wonders here.
Focus on knitwear that has tight enough of a weave to keep the wind out but has enough loft to trap warm air. I have a go-to navy lambswool crewneck jumper from a small Scottish brand I found on Instagram that I paid about £50 for. Not cheap by any means but not luxury prices either and it’s seen me through five winters strong with no signs of slowing down.
I also have a charcoal cashmere crewneck for smarter occasions that looks relatively plain but is actually cleverly woven to create a subtle herringbone pattern that’s only visible when you’re up close – adding interest without screaming “LOOK AT ME.” Now for a confession. One of my best mid-layer acquisitions was completely unintentional: a quilted gilet I picked up because it was so ridiculously lightweight I assumed no warmth would come from it. Wrong.
It’s easily my warmest layering piece and takes up zero space in my wardrobe. Mine is navy (blasphemy for a menswear blogger I know) but it’s slim cut enough that I can wear it under a jacket without looking like I’m wearing a pillowcoat. Gilets trap heat against your body’s core – where you need it most – without restricting movement in your arms.
The trick is finding one specifically designed to be warm, as opposed to merely looking warm. Touch the inside and cheque what it’s filled with (synthetic fluffy stuff like PrimaLoft works wonders in our damp weather) and make sure the armholes are high cut enough to prevent cold air entering. Obviously if it’s particularly grim outside, you can double up on mid-layers; maybe a thin merino jumper underneath a chunkier jumper.
Just make sure you can still move freely and don’t hibernate yourself into coldness. It’s very easy when layering to reach a point where adding more layers makes you colder because you’ve compressed everything, eliminating the insulating air pockets between layers. Adding more isn’t always best; smarter layering is better.
It’s time for the most important layer of them all; your outer layer. The thing standing between you and British winter. British people have traditionally turned to waxed cotton (i.e.
Barbour) and its many offspring for our weather. It works. God knows why it’s so trendy at the moment but it works.
Breathes well, deals with drizzly British weather like a dream, and gets better with age. However, waxed cotton isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. And whilst it’s versatile enough for the majority of winter situations, it is waxed cotton.
If you’re after a more technical outer layer that can take you from sporty to smart, pay attention to fabric and fit. As with your base layers, you want to avoid anything that traps moisture. 100% waterproof outer layers will keep the rain off but often trap your body’s moisture next to you, making you feel damp from the inside out.
Voila, cold and clammy hell. I’m partial to wool outer layers that have a tight weave and maybe even water-resistant treatment. A good wool overcoat with a high collar can be surprisingly effective at blocking out wind, but still breathable enough that you don’t overheat when you put any effort in.
You Might Also Like
For tops that I’d wear casually, I’ve got a slightly oversized wool donkey jacket that has just enough room to layer up underneath but not enough that I look like I’m wearing a horse’s pouch. The key to making it work? Fabric density.
It’s heavy enough to block wind but not so heavy that it feels stiff or restrictive. I want to give a special shout-out to the trousers. As many men will testify, we spend a disproportionate amount of time thinking about tops and barely any time thinking about our bottoms only to end up freezing our asses off while wearing the same jeans all year round.
Because thin cotton denim does absolutely nothing for you when it comes to warmth, and any wind that dares make contact with you will whip straight through it. Invest in some winter weight trousers and you’ll change your life if you’re used to suffering through winters in ‘regular’ jeans. Thick wool moleskin.
Heavier weight corduroy. Flannel lined trousers – you name it, they work wonders. I picked up a pair of moleskin trousers that look suspiciously like chinos but feel like a warm hug around your legs.
Smart enough to get away with in most offices, but substantially warmer than your everyday cotton trousers. For when I’m being lazy, heavyweight selvedge denim (the darker and more unwashed looking the better) provides way more wind resistance than skinny jeans ever could. If you really want to go all out, there is such a thing as dedicated long underwear that you wear as bottoms.
I have a set I live in when skiing but to be honest, in this climate I find that just upgrading your trousers works infinitely better than adding another layer you’ll then have to remember to remove when going inside. Moving swiftly on to the bits that suffer first. Hands and head.
The “I forgot my gloves and now can’t use my phone because my fingers have frozen solid” dilemma is something we’ve all been subject to during winter at some point or another. Invest in a good pair of gloves. Not cardboard-like glove liners but actual gloves.
Leather with a cashmere lining if you’re feeling fancy. If not, at the very least, something wool that won’t lose any functionality when damp. Thermal-powered touchscreen fingertips aren’t a luxury anymore.
They’re a necessity when your phone keeps failing its face recognition software because your fingers look like Voldemort’s. Ok, so as far as headwear goes, wool beanie on the back of your head is your best bet. It avoids that “I’m about to rob a bank” look so many wool beanies give you but still keeps those all-important ears of yours nice and toasty.
If you’re self-conscious about ruining your hair, why not try earmuffs? Hear me out. They’re back.
Slimmer than they used to be and can easily be folded up and stuffed in your pocket when not in use. You might feel ridiculous the first time you pull them out to use, but your ears will thank you. Finally, feet.
Boots, boots, boots. Invest in a pair of heavy-duty boots that’ll see you right all winter. Goodyear welted with a Dainite rubber sole is where it’s at.
They’ll keep your feet warm and dry without sacrificing all clothing sense in favour of “but it’s AWINTERPOINT.” They don’t have to be big heavy-duty hiking boots either. Many classic dress boots are Goodyear-welted these days but with a far more refined silhouette. The key is making sure the welt is sealed and the leather treated properly.
I bought a pair of Tricker’s country boots almost a decade ago for my last winter in Germany and have never had a drop of water seep in since, despite regular abuse. Like with your tops, the socks you choose can make or break your experience. No cotton.
Go straight wool-blend with a bit of synthetic content for durability. Surprisingly enough, mountaineering brands make the best winter socks. They’re not outrageously thick but bafflingly warm and super quick drying.
You can get dress ones from Pantherella if you need something thinner to wear with smarter shoes. As an added bonus, let’s talk about your “inside layers.” If you’re like me and live in London proper, you’ll no doubt be reaching for the heating whenever the mercury dips just to counteract how cold your flat gets. But there’s no point donning an outfit that’s basically militaristic grade without once taking it off if you’re then lounging around the house in a cotton t-shirt wondering why your petrol bill has turned into an unexpected second mortgage.
Apply the same principles as you would for outside layers. Merino/cashmere jumper trousers? Sure.
If not, at least go for something with a bit of weight to it. Jersey cotton rather than crazy thin puckered stuff. Throw on a decent cardigan around the house and you’ll lower your heating bill and increase your coziness levels simultaneously.
Trust me on this. I learnt my lesson last winter when England was hit with a petrol price spike and my tiny old flat with stupidly thin single glazed windows decided to punish me financially. Between February and March I bought what I laughingly termed a “house cardigan.” Basically an oversized lambswool shawl-collar cardigan that looked decent enough to make a surprise appearance during a Zoom call but was 100% designed to keep me warm inside.
It became that hated clothing article that your loved ones know you need but no-one else will understand.
So hated, my girlfriend dubbed it my “emotional support cardigan” when I took it with us on holiday to Portugal (“It’s not cold in Portugal mate,” said nobody ever as it rained the entire time.) Look, I know what you’re thinking. Layering like you’re about to spend the next six months in Siberia sucks at seeming fashionable AF.
But the thing is, when you start building smart layering combinations that work you’ll actually find it looks really damn good. Textures of different wool blends, slight colour variations of the same tone to add interest, personal style shining through when you’re working with several pieces as opposed to hiding under a giant padded parka. Trust me, smart winter layering is far more satisfying thanyou think.
So there you have it, all you need to survive Britain’s wonderful winter. Layer smart, not thick. Invest in base and outer layers that breathe but protect you from the elements.
And for god’s sake, look after your extremities. You’ll be warm enough to scoff at our weather’s best efforts and stand next to visiting friends from hotter countries wondering why the hell they came here. Just like the lady at the bus stop who kindly told me I looked stupid that cold January evening.
