A few years ago, I went to a house party in the Cotswolds. It was one of those scenarios wherein someone I knew vaguely would send me a text along the lines of “do you want to come to ——-‘s house this weekend?” In which ——- is an acquaintance of an acquaintance but who lives in this magical cabin in the woods and you’ve always wanted to go to their house because everyone has always talked about how cool it is. Long story short, I went to ——-‘s cute little cottage in the country. ——- opened the door wearing what I can only describe as the tattered up shirt of my dreams.
First of all, the collar was just hanging on by a thread. It looked like someone had taken their Pocket Destroyer and gone absolutely nuts on it. The knees of his trousers were worn in such a way that I knew deep down inside I should have thrown my own khakis away about three years ago.
But his shoes. Oh, his shoes.
What on earth were those impeccably worn brown leather monster-dongs called?
Turns out – and this will come as shock to absolutely no one – that those distressed up James Persey shirt was a custom made Turnbull & Asser that cost more than I make in two months. His worn out trousers were made by some little known Savile Row shop. Those worn down old shoes were Edward Greens that were probably worth more than my entire wardrobe fresh of the shelf and were at least 20 years old.
This man owned more land than I can probably see from my front porch and was richer than I will ever know what to do with. But he walked up to me wearing a top that looked like he stole it from the Giving Tree boutique at Goodwill. This, my friends, was my indoctrination into what I can only describe as “comfortably p****n” attire.
And honestly, it blew my mind a little bit. I prided myself in having a minimal wardrobe filled with quality basics that would last me years. I read all about capsule wardrobes and invested in pieces that I thoughtchecked all the boxes when it came to intentional dressing.
And then I met the Brits. Actual, real-life guys from Britain who took “carefully constructed” to a whole other dimension of “fuck everyone else, we don’t look homeless we LOOK LIKE WE COULD BE HOMELESS.” You see, I had been going about this whole minimalism thing from such a hyper West-Coast perspective. Everything had to be sleek.
Everything had to look new. Everything had to be optimised for maximum function. But these folks figured out that the whole point of intimidatingly wealthy living is that you don’t care what you look like.
The most premium item in your wardrobe isn’t the one that’s shining and looks like you just stepped out of a showroom. It’s the thing that looks better after twenty years of wear than most garments look like when you unbox them. Once I realised that thrill ran down to the British countryside and got into the weeds.
Here were these guys who seemed obsessed with clothes…but they were playing such a longer game than anyone else. They weren’t buying something because it looked nice today. They were buying something that would get better with age, that would tell a story.
Mind = blown. One: nothing looks new. Being crisp with your clothes is gauche.
It’s bragging. It’s saying “look at how I can afford to buy all new clothes!” Those Hunter wellington boots you see people wearing while cradling a pint of cider? The mud should be permanently embedded in the treads from when you were too cool to take them off on country walks.
That Harris tweed jacket should look like it shrunk three sizes because it hasn’t been properly broken in yet. Hell, the suits these guys wear to bloody weddings look like they’ve done it a few times themselves. Which brings me to my next point – these clothes have to be EXPENSIVE to age this well.
The jackets don’t just tear they get better. That’s why when someone mentions those luxury brands I name dropped above, you suddenly understand why this whole subculture (and yes, believe it or not there’s an actual subreddit for this shit) is actually filled with some of the richest people on the planet who can afford to shop at charity shops. This jumper wasn’t pre-shredded at the elbows.
It wore through to that point and was then properly repaired instead of tossed into a landfill. That shooting jacket doesn’t just look faded from a shotgun shoulder strap, it actually has spent hundreds of days covering game. When these guys wear clothes, they actually wear the shit out of them.
My girlfriend thought I had fallen off when I tried to explain this concept to her. “Wait so rich people wear shitty clothes on purpose?” No! Sh*tty is the point. As horribly privileged as I am, I will never be able to dress like this because I just don’t HAVE that kind of money.
What they’re doing is wearing clothes that look like they’ve been through years of life instead of stuffing their closets with things that only exist to look pretty while hanging in your closet. TLDR; they wear clothes that have lived a life. Two: brands matter…but they won’t tell you what they are.
Prep School has a helpful article laying out all the quintessential brands for every category. Clothing: Cordings, Purdey, Farlows. Suits: old Savile Row shops like Huntsman, Dormet & Bean, Anderson & Sheppard.
Shirts: Turnbull & Asser, Hilditch & Key. Shoes: Edward Green, Crockett & Jones, John Lobb. Hell probably half of these brands I’ve never heard of.
But here’s the catch – none of it is overtly branded. Sure, your grandpa may have his initials monogrammed on his shirts but that’s about it. There will be no shiny designer logos hanging off these clothes like Christmas ornaments.
They’re not even buying things new anymore. Inheriting your clothes is the mark of true prestige. If you’re not getting jumpers handed down from your father, you’re doing it wrong.
Guys I sat next to at the pub had full debates about whether a tweed jacket belonged to someone’s father or uncle. Family tree of jacket >>>>>>>>>> jacket itself. Three: they have actual uniforms.
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Out in the country: Barbour jacket (mostly the Beaufort model, which is patchable because discarding a Barbour is some sort of cardinal sin), corduroys/moleskin trousers in earth tones,cheques, windowpane prints. Shirts are so covered in elbow patches they may as well be robes at this point. Brown leather shoes.
Old nike shorts if you’re hunting. (I’m actually half kidding about the nike shorts. Sort of.) The jumpers will be cashmere or lambswool, generally speaking some iconic Fair Isle pattern. The colours will be muted – olive greens, navy, browns, burgundy.
Shirt will always be plain white or pale blue, maybe some muted stripes at most. Lines will be minimal. Think signet rings passed down for generations, fancy-ass watches with leather straps (nothing sporty), maybe an errantly tossed coin of a pocket square.
The city wardrobe is similarly stringent. Classic British cuts with surprisingly specific regiment/would-you-rather you attended patterns. Classic windowpane, cheques, whatever flies under Burberry plaid.
You get the gist. Four: they don’t care about their clothes, but they also take insanely good care of them. This may be the most incredible part to me.
These dudes have mastered that odd balance of s**ty and put together that I’ve been trying to emulate since I can remember wearing clothes. Their shoes will be impeccably polished, probably have been for decades. Suits may be vintage but they are well brushed, properly stored, and treated with the utmost respect.
Hair may look unkempt but was trimmed by the family barber the same week. You cannot simply run out and buy these clothes. There is a time component you can’t shortcut.
Yes, you can spend thousands of dollars on a Barbour jacket. But if it doesn’t look like your grandpa carried you around in it for years, then you’ve failed and everyone will know you’re wearing a new jacket. You can get tailor-made suits but until they’re broken in with decade’s worth of wear, they’ll never look right.
Last but not least, you have to have the stones to show up to someone’s wedding wearing a jacket that someone else once wore to their wedding. You have reach such a level of comfort in your social station that you don’t give a single shit what others think of your outfit. Part of dressing like you’ve been doing it for decades is caring so little about what others think, you’re able to wear visibly worn clothes to a wedding.
To me, that says something about our relationship with material goods. In a society that worships newness and disposability like modern religion, there is something radical about clothes that are designed to outlive their original wearer. Stuff in my wardrobe isn’t meant to last a couple years.
Shit in these guys closets is built to last generations. Look, before we get too lost in the weeds here I will admit there are some extremely problematic elements to obsessing over this subculture. For starters, 90% of the articles of clothing I mentioned here are not affordable for regular folks.
Nor is the lifestyle one inherently adopts when they start dressing like this (which in turn informs how they care for their clothes). This whole scene is extremely white and upper class. If you know, you know.
There’s some very real privilege that allows this subculture to exist and I am in no way immune to the problematic nature of that. But like anything, I think we can take pieces of the philosophy and apply them to better ourselves. Clothes shouldn’t have to be replaced every few years.
Quality is always better than fashionable. Repair trumps replacement. And maybe instead of wardrobes that speak to who we aspire to be, our closets could actually tell the story of our lives.
Pretty cool thought, right? It’s changed how I approach dressing myself. I’m actually less focused on “cleanliness” with my clothes and more on “will this show wear well?” I’m intentional about what wears out and what I can slow down with repairs.
My go-to jacket before this was probably myathers bomber. It was great for actually wearing because it didn’t look like shit when I wore it year round. But it wasn’t a jacket I was invested in repairing if it got torn.
Now I have a jumper/vest hybrid that I actually KNOW I’m going to wear sh*t out of and throw elbow patches on. My boots aren’t just for dressier occasions, they’re getting creased up and beaten just like those guys’ shoes do. And I’m FAR less judgmental of people’s clothing now when I see they wear hi-lo.
Shirt from Target, shoes from Saint Laurent? I get it. You’re living your life and dressing in a way that works for you.
More power to you, dude.
I’m still working at a tech startup. I still live in my itty bitty flat in SF.
I still try to maintain a fairly minimal wardrobe. Just thinking about it in longer terms. These days when I buy something I think, “how will this look in 5 years?
10 years?” Not just “will this fill the hole in my capsule wardrobe?” Will this shirt actually get better if I wear the shit out of it? Can I get my tailor to replicate that fade when it needs to be let down? Will my trousers cuff look as cool 20 wears from now as they did the first day I bought them?
Minimalism isn’t just about having less or even “better” things. It can also be about buying things that will remain better for longer periods of time. Edit: for clarity.
