Let me tell you what’s truly bonkers about living in Britain: I once spent weeks packing for two or three day trips to Milan and realised I had more clothing than half the population of the UK. No, seriously – I take baggage allowance very seriously and am rarely seen without a large suitcase for weekends away. I’m not saying this for bragging rights either – okay, maybe a little bit, but my husband will tell you I have every season’s wardrobe in Milan too – it’s because British weather turns getting dressed into a logistical exercise rivalled only by… … October 2018.
Last Tuesday I shot some product for an exciting new British heritage brand in Hackney. At stupid-o-clock GMT I left my flat in Manchester wearing a lightweight mac, a cardigan, and an oxford shirt. By 11am when I arrived into Euston it was 21 degrees and sunny, and I was dying of heat exhaustion having devoured a £7 sandwich bought from a coffee shop toilet.
Around 4pm when we finished our outdoor shoot – WITH THE SUN STILL OUT – we got soaked in a thunderstorm. Cheers Britain.
See you next week.
Related: Tie Bar The State Your Wardrobe’s In Edition June Tie Dye Box. I left home wearing three layers that would’ve been appropriate at any point during the day and ended up stripping down to my T-shirt (after adding a mac and then almost instantly taking it back off again). The Italian photographer behind the project – a wonderful guy named Marco who exclusively wears black and has about three jackets for every season – gave me what I think was a death stare when I explained that yes, fluctuating between 11 degrees and 25 in the space of four hours really is quite normal for us. “But Alex, it said 16 degrees in the forecast!” he kept telling me as he hurled his phone across the studio.
Bless. I’ve been thinking about what to wear in these ridiculous conditions for about 24 years now, give or take. Obviously I’m not claiming to have nailed it – I think we can all agree that Britain has created the impossible weather puzzle and no-one will truly solve it.
But over the years I have developed a loose system that, nine times out of ten, means I can stay pretty much seasonally appropriate from the moment I leave my house until I return the following morning. Granted, it’s not an exact science. But it’s fairlyclose.
Obviously I’m not talking test tubes and white coats – I’m talking about years of sweaty train journeys wearing suede shoes and boots because you thought ‘it won’t rain that much’. Here’s what I’ve learned. First off, you don’t actually need to have tonnes of technically waterproof/breathable/weather-appropriate garments to do this successfully.
Ok, yes this helps, but what you need more than anything is a fundamental understanding that when it comes to dressing British, layers are king. You need things you can take on and off quickly and efficiently, so you can adapt on the fly. Or in the car.
I learnt the hard way early on in my career when interviewing a Savile Row tailor for my first magazine job. I turned up on a freezing January morning wearing my heavyweight winter coat, which by noon had been discarded onto my lap (there was nowhere to hang it sorry…) because I was sweating so much from weaving between roof cavity houses in central London. The tailor, a sweet older man who had clearly seen every menswear sin in the book by this point, sighed sympathetically and poured me a glass of water. “My advice?
Dress like an onion, son.” You layer like an onion in Britain. Layers you can peel. Ok, let’s dive in.
Base layers. I’m not talking high-tech sports inspired nylon T-shirts here. Though if that’s your jam then go nuts.
Merino T-shirts are my go-to year-round. They sound gimmicky and they’re pricey as hell, but I promise you they’re worth every penny. They’re thermoregulating magic, they don’t smell if you’re stuck in meetings all day and they layer really nicely under jumpers without looking bulky.
I own about eight in various shades of navy, grey, white and black so they might not be the height of excitement but they’re my uniform underneath almost everything. The mid-layer is where you can have some fun. Get a nice chunky cardigan.
I’m talking BIG NOT IT’S FROM THE HIGH STREET AND FALLS TO BITS cardigan. Get something made of lambswool or cashmere if you can afford it. I have a go-to navy one from Anderson & Sheppard that still looks as good as new today even though it cost me a months’ rent when I bought it five years ago.
Buttoned up it can double up as a waistcoat under a blazer on colder days, but open over a T-shirt when the sun decides to grace us with its presence. Jackets. Where we Brits often go wrong.
Believe it or not, you don’t need to live in your massive puffer all winter or ditch jackets altogether in favour of T-shirts. The mid-layer jacket sweet spot is an unlined cotton number or an old school Harrington. Water resistant, not waterproof.
Warm, not insulated. Smart, not stiff. Got all that?
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Welcome to dressing British my friend. Emergency kit. Call them what you will but I always have a packable mac, foldable umbrella, and thin leather gloves stashed away somewhere in my bag all year round.
Mine all crammed into one of those padded holds-the-shape bag things so they take up minimal space. You’d be surprised how often these come in handy – trust me, there’s nothing worse than having an important meeting and turning up a sweaty mess because you underestimated the weather, only to crawl home drenched hours later. I’ve had friends laugh at me for years about how “over-prepared” I am for everything.
Jamie (god rest his denim-covered soul), my uni fashion Yoda who now looks after my mum and dad’s international menswear empire once called me “paranoid” whenever I checked the weather app multiple times before leaving the house. Jamie had suede Chelsea boots and no coat at our entire families Christmas lunch last year because the restaurant we went to was a ten minute walk through mud from the car park and “they were bloody expensive, Wright, don’t you start”. Mate, I started.
Hard. Colour palette wise I stick to similar tones most of the year. Navy, grey, brown, beige, sometimes green.
Again, not because I want to look boring – I can think of LOADS of reasons why you SHOULD want to embrace colour (especially now things are brightening up a bit!) It’s because by sticking to similar colours I know that any given layers can realistically go together without making me look completely shit should I need to strip off or add extra layers quickly. I wrote about this kinda guy last year when I calculated how many outfit changes/configurations I wore in one single day (get ready to feel very uninspired about your own wardrobe): In just 12 hours, between 8am-8pm I wore seven FULL outfit changes. T-shirt/cardigan on the morning commute > ditch cardigan for office > light mac for lunch outdoors > ditch mac, keep cardigan for client meeting > back to t-shirt for sweaty rush hour commute > all layers back on for drop in temperature at night > ditch layers for cold, crowded pub.
At work. My colleagues nearly hospitalised me when I told them I actually counted this. We ALL talk about the weather here because more than anything it’s a collective sense of PTSD we share each and every time we leave the house.
I’ve had team meetings where half the morning was spent discussing “whether it’s going to rain later” vs any actual work. Office politics? Baby on the way?
Doesn’t matter – half the group will still be stressing about rain when they leave the meeting. Speaking of collective stress – we’re also a funny bunch when it comes to dressing for all these seasons packed into one day. We both massively over prepare… and massively under prepare.
We’ll spend a small fortune on technical jackets we’ll wear once a year. But then forget to wear socks with our waterproof trousers when it actually rains. I have THREE FUCKING UMBRELLAS at the moment and STILL leave the house thinking ‘nahhh it’ll be fine’ only to spend weeks cursing myself when I get caught in the pouring rain with nowhere to dry the sweaty bastard off.
I once bought a pair of waterproof trousers for a festival in 2014 and I still can’t find them. Today. It’s pissing it down outside.
Why is it that as soon as we step foot abroad we instantly forget everything we’ve learnt about layeredBritish dressing? Throw a Brit on a beach and nine times out of ten he’s going to revert back to wearing nothing but vest, board shorts and flip-flops the second the sun hits. “Oh no man, I’m fine!” says the guy sat next to you on the plane while proudly wearing sunglasses with coat sleeves as we land into 15 degree temperatures. I’m as guilty as the next person – last year I flew to Copenhagen for a menswear trade show.
Obviously I packed like Dick van Dyke for a month abroad but when it came to wandering around the Danish summer evening I STILL bought a stupidly expensive jumper because it was “chillier than back home”. The shopkeeper winked at me when I handed over my card. “English?” he said. Me: [chattering teeth].
Look, nobody has this completely figured out and until someone invents a jacket that magically changes thickness and warmth based on the weather outside, we never will. But here’s what I CAN promise you works about 80% of the time. Invest in a waxed cotton jacket.
Barbour if you want to keep it classic (they do an excellent budget line now in the branded stores so don’t @ me) but there are loads of quality alternatives that won’t make you look like Lord Of The Guides.
Breton’s do a nice affordable version, Ralph Lauren do a mean raglan style with gorge cropped sleeves, and Harley of Scotland do something similar with a detachable hoodie built in. It’s water resistant but not plastic, smart enough to wear in the city but still looks ace getting muddy on hikes, and finally, it has pockets.
Loads of pockets. Enough to fit gloves, hats, phones, wallets and who knows what else. I’ve recently started stuffing snacks in mine ever since I hit my late 30’s and discovered I was hangry ALL THE TIME.
Who knew?! GOLD. Extreme British layering example for you: attending an outdoor brand shoot wearing what I deemed sensible clothing, then running two streets to my car to drive two hours to a black-tie dinner where I had to change into a tux.
Went straight trousers-T-shirt-tux with undershirt but still felt the need to wear thermal long johns as there was no time to change properly and my car breaks aren’t great in the winter. Worked like a dream. Nobody knows except for you and now my mum.
Shhh.
