The first proper jumper I owned* was a navy blue lambswool crew neck gifted to me by my grandmother when I was sixteen. “Oh darling, every man needs a decent jumper,” she cooed as I opened it with the kind of disdain only a hormonal teenager who really wanted a PlayStation can muster. *Shirt/tracking suit type jumpers from school are exempt from this rule, as are those comprised of material with the same texture as a hedgehog. It wasn’t cool. It wasn’t fashionable.
It was simply… a jumper. Basic. Useful.
Impossibly soft. I wore it once that winter (for a family dinner where I was required to attend and could therefore not avoid wearing it) before relegating it to the back of my wardrobe, where it joined the sorry ranks of unwanted misguided Christmas gifts.
Half a lifetime later, I dug it out while moving flats during my first year at university in Manchester.
My student house was terrifyingly ineffectual at heating in the winter, fluctuating between desert-like conditions that threatened to suck the moisture from your lungs, and an Arctic blast strong enough to see us wearing jumpers indoors. In desperation, I dusted off my navy bequest and begrudgingly put it on. Oh god, it was wonderful.
It reminded me of being wrapped in a marshmallow. I wore the thing religiously for the next two months, earning amused sneers from my keener dresser housemates. “Nice grandad jumper.” Vijay would tease me. Followed by: “mate can I have it when my parents come to visit?” That jumper got me through three winters in the North of England; two long distance relationships (there’s nothing like crying into quality knitwear), and enough cold library research sessions to bankrupt me if they’d charged admission.
I still have it to this day. The cuffs have worn thin, there’s a hole near one elbow patch from an embarrassingly shoddy repair job I attempted, and it probably doesn’t weigh as much as it used to. But every winter, out comes that old jumper.
When I finally plucked up the courage to cheque who had actually made it, lo and behold; it was crafted in Scotland by a heritage company who still make (and sell for about four times the price my nan probably paid) virtually the same jumper today. I’m not waxing lyrical about this old jumper just to share an embarrassing anecdote from my youth (although do feel free to chuckle at my expense; I can take it). It taught me an important lesson about clothes that has stuck with me throughout my career.
Good, enduringly wearable clothes often don’t swagger into the room boasting about how good they are. They do their job quietly, get better with age, and often won’t have the highest price tag. And it’s a lesson that is particularly pertinent when it comes to knitwear.
My relationship with jumpers since that precious gift from my nan has seen me own everything from sensible but sturdy high street offerings that barely scraped £30, up to eyebrow-raising extravagances that required serious financial rejigging. I once spent an entire week’s food budget on a ludicrously over-priced hand knit cashmere cable knit jumper (*LITTLE SECRET* it was worth every penny just in case you’re wondering.) Along the way I’ve made many mistakes; cheap acrylic throws that melted when I accidentally left them by the campfire, “luxury” cashmere that looked like a frosted petting zoo after two washes, chunky over-sized mohair monstrosities that felt like I was smuggling a bright pink kitten around with me everywhere I went (to be fair, my flatmate bought that one). I’ve since replaced many of those garments.
With jumpers that were better, lasted longer, and cost much less. If you’re looking to add to your own jumper repertoire but don’t want to break the bank, you’ve come to the right place. Allow me to impart what I’ve learned about Britain’s national garment.
Let’s talk about The Great British Jumper. Don’t @ me about this beforehand but the first thing you need to consider is what your jumper is made from. A lot of knitwear crimes can be traced back to the materials used.
That really cheap “cashmere” jumper in the High Street? Guess what. It’s not actual cashmere.
Learn to love cable knit. The exception to this rule is James Bond and lasers; they can touch. I’m not saying you should avoid cashmere outright (although if your budget stretches to it, merino wool is fantastic), but know what you’re buying.
Cashmere fibre length and density vary wildly, and is where lots of cheaper cashmere jackets and jumpers cut corners. Shorter fibre will make the cashmere feel soft at first; but will pill like your teenage heart after your first breakup. Cheaper cashmere jackets will often use these shorter fibres, so while your jumper might feel like a cloud at first; you’ll notice horrifically itchy balls of fuzz gathering after wearing it around the house for a second.
That isn’t to say cheaper cashmere isn’t worth buying; just temper your expectations. Run your hand across the inside of your jumper; higher quality cashmere will feel almost as soft on the inside as it does on the outside. Feel how heavy it is?
Heftier fibres won’t shed half their wool overnight. Also worth checking is how it looks when new; if it looks like it’s been shagged by a Jackson Pollock painted sheep already then trust me, it will look worse after you start wearing it. Side note; cashmere might be softest when knit into jumpers, but it’s not always best.
For day-to-day wear in the great British climate; I’d recommend you look towards some of these other materials first. Lambswool is warm, relatively soft (especially when blended with a small amount of nylon to stop it snagging at every opportunity), and considerably tougher than cashmere for a fraction of the price. Merino wool is the Goldilocks option; softer than regular wool, less prone to pilling than cashmere, and lightweight enough to wear year-round.
A good merino jumper is worth its weight in gold; serving you from September through April and cooling enough to wear on unpleasantly warm summer evenings. My bargain winner though has to be good old Shetland wool. Now, I’ll level with you here; the traditional kind is about as soft as a whisky barrel rubbed with sandpaper (modern techniques have vastly improved the natural softness) but boy, is it hard wearing.
I have a Shetland jumper that’s over fifteen years old and has been worn almost weekly; it still looks brand new. Buy a Shetland jumper; properly look after it and you’ll be dropping it in your grandchildren’s baskets at their wedding. Much like an Iceland bucket masked as a CV display some men like to leave lying around their living rooms; materials matter.
Choose wisely and your jumper will last you years; choose badly and it’ll trigger a fretful dreamscape where your clothing is screaming at you. Heading straight into the Pit of Contempt here; where to buy? Hang on, not M&S?
I’m going to sinfully suggest what may be considered blasphemy in some circles of style journalism and tell you exactly where to go… Marks & Spencers. Just M&S. Their basic crew neck and v-neck jumpers come in at about £30-£40 and are honestly some of the best value-for-money knitwear around.
They stick to classic cuts- nothing exciting or flashy you’ll quickly tyre of- so go for a plain navy or charcoal crew neck. Trust me, I’ve watched fashionistas visibly wilt with despair when I’ve told them their ‘vintage’ jumper they paid hundreds for actually came from M&S. Uniqlo are fantastic for Merino; their extra fine range is exceptional value for money.
The fit is also a bit slouchier than M&S (I like it but YMMV) and won’t come close to the longevity of those cheap bastards, but who gets a jumper out of university that only lasts three years? Three years of wearing a £30-£40 jumper is still ridiculous value. John Lewis do some great own-brand cashmere for around the £100 mark; not suit-quality but with proper care a few years of love.
Their lambswool jumpers are also excellent and sit at around £40-50 a piece. Still got a little left on the budget-sliding scale? Head over to Community Clothing.
Started by Patrick Grant of E. Tautz and Great British Sewing Bee fame, Community Clothing supply hard wearing, no fuss basics made in British factories that once supplied brands three times the price. Their Geelong lambswool jumpers are as good as (and comparable in materials to) jumpers costing double.
Splashing out a little more money will get you significantly better quality though. Finisterre offer £95 Geelong wool jumpers that are seriously good value. As a brand originally designed for making surf clothing that can withstand actual weather; they know what they’re doing when it comes to hardwearing knitwear.
Bonus points for actually being sustainable, rather than just wearing ‘eco’ shirts to sound cool about it. Pushing into the £100+ region and we’re entering heritage brand territory. Brands like Harley of Scotland, William Lockie, and Johnston’s of Elgin (wait for sale/outlet) produce jumpers that will (with proper care) last you decades.
Most of their classic styles haven’t changed much in decades because; well… they didn’t need to. They already had it figured out. Finally, the most glorious treasure troves of affordable quality knitwear are the secondhand and vintage markets.
Charity shops are brilliant for picking up high-quality knitwear from heritage brands, especially if, like me, you live in or around wealthier areas. People with enough disposable income to buy cashmere from Jaeger forty years ago aren’t going to chuck it in the charity bag; they’ll pass it down through families. I picked up a barely worn pair of Scottish cashmere knee-high socks last year for £5.
Seriously. Secondhand. Wool cashmere socks.
FOUNDATION. Shopping online? eBay is your friend. Learn what brands you want and become best friends with the search function.
I still pick up Alice Payne jumpers on there now and again when I have the willpower to resist their webshop. Vintage shopping isn’t for everyone, and come with the caveats that older jumpers were often built to FAR sturdier standards than modern jumpers, so that slightly itchy-looking 100% wool number from the 19?f*ing? ?s isn’t going to feel like knitting with a cloud, but it’ll probably outlast anything you buy new. Fitting may be slightly more ‘traditional’ so if you’rereally bothered by tent-shaped sleeves get it tailored.
Tailoring is your friend. Anyway. You know what all these different materials look like.
Let’s look at where to actually buy them. Now before you ask; yes, I checked. Cotton jumpers are no good.
Even in Scotland. *I could write a whole other blog post on how to look after your knitwear properly so we’ll just go over some quick tips here. Last year I spent a painfully whole weekend brow-beating my godson into properly looking after his knitwear. He wasn’t listening, and I caught him tumble drying one of my cashmere jumpers he’d foolishly borrowed.
Picture an old man screaming at kids these days. Got it? Good.
THAT was me. If you can afford it, and it’s not too itchy; wash your jumpers by hand. If you can’t be fucked/washed jumpers aren’t your thing; then buy a mesh washing bag and wash on a wool cycle (cold) and you’ll be fine for the vast majority of jumpers.
Never hang a wet jumper to dry; it will fuck your jumper up. Just don’t do it. Take them flat out of the washing machine and dry on a towel, flipping every few hours.
Get a decent fabric shaver to deal with pilling. And always let your jumper rest for at least 24 hours between wears so it can ‘recover’. They’re sentient, didn’t you know?
Dry storage away from damp! Fold your jumpers, don’t hang them. Get some cedar blocks or Lavender bags to keep mos Yet another lesson 200% imparted on me by my grandmother; cedar blocks silently killing moths where they sleep.
A great jumper is ruined in seconds by a moth. And once they discover the wool treat your wardrobe has become; they bring friends. Ok so styles.
Here comes the subjective bit, although I will say that if you want to cover all bases and won’t be afraid to wear your jumper until the mid-2020s; there’s a handful of jumper styles that are tried and tested; but first… In an ideal world, knitwear seams should be flat, and lay smoothly against your body. Ribbing at the cuffs and bottom hem should also be taught with good elasticity. For pilling-prone cashmere, give the surface a rub with your palm; good quality jumper won’t fuzz up immediately.
Weight isn’t always everything, but it can be a good rule of thumb for knitwear. Heavier jumper generally contain more fibre, although this will vary depending on style and materials. The older a jumper is, the longer it’ll likely last; particularly before you even own it. “But Sam” I hear you cry, “what about those itchy as fuck vintage jumpers from the 1970s hipster trend?” Problem is, you didn’t actually buy that jumper back in 1970.
Chances are it’s been moth holed, stretched, pilly and poorly washed a hundred times since someone actually new wore it in the 70s. BUY VINTAGE JUMPER; TAKE CARE OF THEM AND THEY WILL RETURN THE FAVOUR. And if not, at least you’ll look like Tom Happold.Seriously, google that guy.
The Mr. Fitzgerald of ugly jumpers. Err…?
Nah I’m Grandfather weathered and revered Scottish wool brand that’s been around since 1906. Moral of the story; trusty old brands have been around for decades because they know what they’re doing. The crew neck is king.
Buy navy, grey, camel. You’ll never go wrong. Under a blazer, over a t-shirt, with jeans, with chinos; jumpers are workhorses.
Get great quality where you can, and wear them anywhere but the most formal of occasions (although I shamelessly wore a black cashmere crew neck under my dinner suit once. Artist avant-garde, obvs. ).Just so happens it’s also one of the most versatile styles; if you’re struggling on how to work a jumper into your everyday wardrobe; start here. The v-neck is having something of a revival lately; badly knitted holes falling off Eric Morcambe’s chest aside.
Like your crew neck, this is one to go classic with. Stop around high neck; aka where it hits either just at, or just below your collarbone. Roll necks?
Neck? Cuttering! Wait, what?
The roll neck is having a comeback? ! Yes. The roll neck, christened and immortalised by a certain John Squire, is back.
How it managed to escape the 70s and early 00s baggy-cat-pooh-inspired trend vacuums is beyond me, but rejoice my polyester children; the humble roll neck is back. And thank christ. A fine merino roll neck under a suit is about as sharp and timeless a look you can ask for.
Slight caveat on the cardigan; some can look overly casual, so stick to finer gauges for something smarter. That being said; my oldest piece of knitwear is an actual navy cardigan that belonged to my grandfather. It’s turning seventy this year and I still wear it regularly.
Double duty as a jumper and light jacket, unbutton to cool down, and slices onto most outfits better than a plain jumper sometimes. Don’t sleep on them. Another style that never goes out of fashion.
Cable knits add some texture and interest without needing to worry about busy prints or insane colour choices. Like your grandad’s best jumper? Buy a cream cable knit.
Just be warned, bulkier cables can make you look even thicker than you already are.
Speaking from experience… Oh look, patterned jumpers. Style is subjective, I get it.
I love some of my best knitwear are definitely on the ‘unique’ side of the jumper spectrum. But think hard; will you still want to wear that bright yellow mustard floral jumper when it’s not pride month? Will that mohair jumper still look this cool in five years?
Really think about it. Here’s the thing about knitwear; even the cheap stuff isn’t THAT cheap. You’re probably spending at least £30 on a new jumper.
Take the time to pick something that YOU like. Something that speaks to you. Hell, something that reminds you of your Nan’s knitwear treasures.
Trust me, she’d want you to wear it.
