I own seventeen lightweight jackets. Seventeen. I counted them last weekend whilst procrastinating on my bi-annual spring clean.
All neatly hung up on individual wooden hangers, slightly different options for solving the same problem. The problem of how to dress comfortably and appropriately for British weather for approximately three-quarters of the year. Well, my girlfriend scoffed when I boasted this dubious accomplishment to her as I stood surrounded by coats in our hallway. “Bloody students and their weird outerwear collections,” she muttered from behind my horizontally-striped barricade. “Normal people don’t need seventeen jackets that all basically get used for the same weather!” Normal people don’t need seventeen jackets.
They’re wrong, obviously. Normal people need seventeen jackets, they just haven’t embraced it yet.
When you narrow it down, lightweight jackets really do are the unsung heroes of the British wardrobe.
We spend far more of the year in the weird pocket of British weather where rain is guaranteed but temperatures hover between 8 and 18 degrees than we do in anything else. Throw in gale force winds whose entire purpose is to whip rainwater directly in to your face, and you’ve got British spring/autumn weather on most days. Couple that with the British Isles’ apparent desire to change seasons multiple times in a single day and you’ll understand why the lightweight jacket is a holy grail style in menswear.
It’s the one piece of clothing we spend about 200 days a year reaching for. Afteryears of hunting down the perfect iteration to no avail, I’ve come to accept that I need a go-to lightweight jacket for every eventuality. My collection currently consists of seventeen options I regularly rotate through, with each one serving a particular purpose depending on the weather conditions.
Over the years I’ve purchased, sold, thrifted and regretted-selling endless versions of these jackets. Test-driven jackets in changing rooms all over the country (it’s Edinburgh = lots of Mackintosh and Anglesey Originals; Birmingham = Henri Lloyd; Leeds = Shnowright), endlessly scrolling through “British lightweight jacket” reviews on Styleforum. Queried my mates so many times about whether the jacket they’re wearing might be “the one” that they avoid wearing jackets that are too nice around me.
Learned from way too many washing mishaps that you can’t wash most British style jackets with anything other than your other British style jackets. I fell in love with British style lightweight jackets when I bought my first “serious” jacket back in 2007: a Baracuta G9 Harrington in navy. They don’t make them more classic than that, a cornerstone of the British style canon if ever there was one.
Months of squirreling away tips from my weekend job at a bookstore in Manchester culminated in me handing over £275 in largely £10 notes to a very bored Oi Polloi shop assistant. I thought that this jacket would single-handedly see me through all my lightweight jacket needs for years to come. It’s taken me another fifteen years and sixteen more jackets to realise that I was woefully incorrect.
Don’t get me wrong, that Baracuta is still a masterpiece. It still gets worn all the time, the Fraser tartan lining now faded from years of wear to a prettier shade of pink than when it was new thanks to_sunshine and rain. The umbrella shaped rear vent, the pocket detailing, the popover collar that looks equally good popped up or down.
If it ain’t broke, right? I’ve worn it so much it’s pretty much ruined, but I’ll never buy another jacket that doesn’t have that classic silhouette. The fact that Baracuta has been producing more or less the same jacket since the 1930s should tell you everything you need to know about how quintessentially British it is.
Yet no British lightweight jacket is perfect for everything. We ask a lot of these coats – water resistant yet breathable, warm but not too hot, formal enough for work but casual enough for the weekend, hardwearing but easy to throw over your shoulder when the sun decides to peek out from behind the clouds for half an hour. Oh and it better look cool too, otherwise what’s the point?
It’s an impossible laundry list of requirements and that’s before you factor in the jacket’s individual personality. There is no single jack-of-all-trades jacket that can conquer every style hurdle we throw at it, which is why I have seventeen. The Harrington Other than Baracuta, my go-to picks for an old-school Harrington are Fred Perry (around £175, also offers helpful elbow padding should you require it) and yes, occasionally Uniqlo do a shockingly good version for under £50.
Highlights: Versatile enough to wear with pretty much everything from jeans to chinos, genius half-way point between casual shirt and formal jacket. Lowlights: They’re not hugely water resistant and if you get caught in a downpour wearing traditional cotton version you’ll basically be wrapped in a wet towel. The bomber If there’s one trendy menswear staple I’m happy to dive headfirst into it’s the good ol’ bomber jacket.
Praise be it’s moved on from the skinny jeans and pointy shoes combo we all thought were a good idea in 2010. These days they’re way slouchier and much more bomber jacket as it was originally intended to be, rather than teenybopper Nirvana tribute band outfit. I’m partial to Private White V.C.’s luxurious cotton-nylon blend bomber with its dreamy cotton lining (£395) at the moment, but Cuadros does something similar for less at £275.
Community Clothing also do a gorgeous British-made option (£155) if you don’t mind leaving off the fancy sleeve tags. Highlights: They’re warmer than your average Harrington, and there’s something about a bomber that looks good on literally everyone. Lowlights: Can be bulkier than your average jacket and the shorter sleeves leave more of your bottom half exposed to the elements.
The field jacket/safari jacket Pretty much neck-and-neck with bombers these days in my books. Tends to offer more coverage than the average bomber, and with that bigger sleeve size usually comes more pockets. Drake’s do a stunning version in cotton drill that could convince you to wear it from barrow-up if you’re feeling adventurous (£395), but my current favourite is the slightly more modern-yet-still-excellent version from Universal Works (£250ish).
Highlights: Pockets. So many pockets. Definitely British enough that you won’t feel silly wearing one.
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Lowlights: There are some styles out there that look very “dad went hiking for the first time”. Also not the best in the rain. The lightweight mac/raincoat Rifle through your grandfather’s wardrobe and you’ll likely find an impeccably tailored black or beige waterproof coat.
We’re not talking about those, unless you’ve got ridiculously good taste. We’re talking more lightweight, cropped versions that have become wardrobe staples in their own right. Mackintosh does them better than anyone else, and will set you back around £600, but again there’s the Community Clothing option (£85-150) if you don’t mind sacrificing some heritage for affordability.
Highlights: Well, the obvious: it’ll actually keep you dry without causing you to spontaneously combust on hotter days. Lowlights: Feels a bit too much like a bin bag when it’s not raining. The overshirt/shacket If you’re unfamiliar with the shacket – god help you – it’s essentially an overshirt.
Somewhere between a shirt and a jacket that’s perfect for those transitional days when you can’t decide if you need a coat or not. Folk do excellent ones in wool (£185) and Oliver Spencer do a particularly nice version in cotton drill (£175), as does Albam (£150) who I’m pretty obsessed with at the moment. Highlights: Versatile enough to wear over a t-shirt or under a heavier jacket when it really dumps on you.
Perfect for that slightly geeky vibe we as British men love to nurture. Lowlights: Not hugely practical if it rains, and can come across as slightly wishy-washy sometimes. You’ll probably look like you spent way too much money on a shirt.
For me and likely most of you reading this, it’s the unstructured jacket. We dress less formally these days than any other point in recent history, so why should our jackets fit like hockey pads? I’m currently living in a beautiful navy number from Anglo-Italian (£490) as we speak, but Carcel, Bunnyjohn and Nilmanifest also do fantastic ones.
Highlights: Theyre probably the most utilitarian option on this list, seeing you through everything from pub quiz wins to weekend breaks in Scotland. Lowlights: Still not great in the rain, and will occasionally feel too smart if you’re wearing jeans and a t-shirt. The technical jacket Don’t forget ye olde tech jacket, upgraded brethren of the waterproof great granddaddy above.
The North Face, Patagonia and Arc’teryx lead the charge when it comes to actually keeping the rain off without cooking you alive, and all offer fantastic lightweight shells. My personal picks are Patagonia’s Torrentshell (£180) or The North Face’s Dryzzle (£200), as both offer fully waterproof jackets without looking like you’re about to scale K2. Highlights: They actually do what they say on the tin.
Will keep the rain off and are usually fairly breathable to boot. Lowlights: Regrettably, not really jacket AND work appropriate. Unless you work at Arc’teryx.
Pros: You work at Arc’teryx! See? There isn’t one jacket that covers all bases.
For me, the ideal British spring/autumn/jazz hands summer wardrobe contains at least three jackets: a Harrington for those nice dry days when you want to look like more of an Ian Sandwalker than a Chris King; a technical option for when the heavens open and you don’t care what you look like; and an unstructured blazer to throw over your shoulders when it’s approximating summer but you’ll soon enough realise it’s actually still bang-on autumn. If I was really pushed to pick one jacket to take to a desert island (I’m not but let’s say I was) I’d probably opt for the field jacket in some kind of treated cotton. Think the Private White V.C.
Ripstop Bomber (£425). It’s waterproof enough to handle most showers, warm enough to layer under if necessary, but not overly bulky so you can actually wear it when it’s not raining. You’ll have to sacrifice on pure style points vs. a Harrington or unstructured jacket, but it will get less usage than both of those styles so I think it balances out.
The secret is having the right jacket for every microseason. That magical week in April when it’s sunny and warm enough not to need a jacket some days but colder than a Scotsman’s fart at a fun run other days? You need a jacket for that week.
That odd time in September when it feels like January in the mornings but mid-May at lunchtime? Different jacket. That one glorious evening in British “summer” where it’s actually warm but there’s just enough of a breeze to make you regret not wearing a jacket?
Guess what?
I have a jacket for that too. Anyway, that’s my ridiculous theory as to why I need seventeen jackets.
My girlfriend does not agree with my theory. She has a valid point when she tells me we live in a two-bedroom flat with only so much cupboard space, not a castle with rooms dedicated to specific categories of coat. But who cares, really?
As I hung each jacket back up mock scornfully earlier I couldn’t bare to get rid of any of them. They’ve all served me well, through several countries and a pandemic even. Who knows how long the mild weather will last this year?
Me? I’m buying a waxed cotton Barbour. What’s your excuse?
