Last week I got soaked again. Thursday afternoon: torrential downpour outside the Rittenhouse Hotel where I’d stepped out of a lengthy client meeting. The kind of downpour that overloads Philadelphia’s ancient storm drains.
The kind of downpour where rain pelts you like sharp stones thrown by God Himself. I was wearing my favourite charcoal grey “premium weatherproof” topcoat. Sticker shock when I bought it ten years ago nearly caused me to weep.
Cost more than my first month’s rent in an flat circa 1998. Premium?
Please.
Water soaked through and pooled around my ankles three blocks later as I pulled into my parking garage. The humiliating part? That night I stood in my walk- in closet sloshing water out of a suit jacket as Margaret looked on disapprovingly from the doorway. “Again?” she asked.
Yup, again. Been there, done that experiment many, many times looking for a raincoat that both works and doesn’t require me to remortgage the house to buy. You’d think after twenty-five years of wearing suits I would have nailed down this rainwear thing by now.
Yet here I am surrounded by coats both ridiculous and wildly expensive that don’t hold up to actual rain. Why is it so difficult to find a functional raincoat that I won’t feel self-conscious wearing with suits? Been asking myself that very question ever since… Growing up in Boston will do that to you I suppose.
There’s no negotiating with Mother Nature when you live on the northeast coast of the country. Dad wore the same Burberry trench coat for thirty years. Bought it the day he became partner in 1975 at his Boston law firm.
Wore it every rainy day until the fabric finally wore thin on Father’s Day 2005 and he bought himself a new one. “Lasts forever, those coats,” he’d grumble as he brushed down the cuffs after another miserable commute in soggy Boston winters. Easy for him to say when he purchased that Burberry for what was approximately $200 in today’s dollars. Go online and look up the price of an equivalent Burberry today.
Google it. I’ll wait. Thought so.
Which explains twenty-five years of me searching every rack in every department store desperate to find one that actually works as well as my dad’s old coat did. And it’s not that those brands don’t still make great coats! Burberry, Mackintosh, Aquascutum… Legends.
Burbery Camden I tried on at their Walnut Street boutique last spring almost made me cream my trousers. Honey coloured cotton gabardine. Beautiful horn buttons.
Iconic cheque lining. Best part? It felt like wearing something out of a 1950s Bogart film while I preened in front of the dressing room mirror.
That is until the salesperson told me the price. $1,400. For a raincoat. Jesus Christ.
I’ve bought vehicles for less than that. The truth is, it doesn’t matter how much you spend. Last Thursday’s storm would have soaked me just as badly wearing a ten dollar rain poncho from Duane Reade or that Burberry.
I know this because years of exorbitant fails have finally taught me this simple lesson about rain coats. The best jacket you can buy might not come from an obvious heritage brand at all. It might come from companies who take weather seriously because otherwise their customers would die.
Mountain habitats = precipitation. If you’re hiking through mountainous terrain or sleeping under a tent up on a ridge miles from civilization, you better hope that rain gear works. Obsessed with this thought process around ten years ago when one of my clients told me his son worked for REI.
Started paying attention to brands like Arc’teryx, Patagonia and Mountain Hardware. Not the consumer grade sales in the front of the store. The seriously technical shit in the back.
First game changer? Patagonia Torrentshell I purchased on clearance for $160. Eyegasm inducingly ugly grey-green colour that Patagonia felt needed for “mountain joy,” but lovely sturdy waterproof shell.
Wore That thing for three years until the zipper finally died and that was after dozens of storms through Philadelphia plus an entire week of non-stop rain we had in Seattle one summer. Still ranks as one of the best jackets I’ve ever owned. When it comes to rain gear from the great outdoors, the hard part is finding something that doesn’t scream GO CLIMB FUCKING K2 WITH ME.
Patagonia has tons of city styles in recent years with slimmer cuts, subtler colours that won’t horrify your fellow business travellers. All their shells start around $200, which is steep until you realise people actually die if their Patagonia doesn’t work. Been wearing their Tres 3-in-1 Parka for the last two winters.
Business friendly enough to wear to client meetings. Blocks out every conceivable weather threat Philadelphia can throw at it. If you prefer more traditional, go old American workwear brands.
Seattle native Filson makes amazing wax cotton jackets that can handle an actual Pacific Northwest deluge with aplomb. Cheque out their Mackinaw Cruiser, which runs about $350. Doesn’t seem like much until you realise that jacket will last you two decades with proper care.
Borrowed my brother-in-law’s last winter when we went fishing in Oregon. Five days of constant rain, not a drop got through. Bought mine in navy the week after I returned to Philly.
For something even more budget friendly – because who among us these days isn’t watching what everything costs? Cheque out military surplus. Learned this lesson from prosecutor who once told me he spent four years in the Army prior to law school. “Military gear is made for people who can’t call in sick if Mother Nature decides to fuck you over,” he explained while holding up his surplus Gore- Tex jacket. “Get you through the worst shit.” Thirteen dollars at an Army Navy store in South Jersey, Gore-Tex that still repels water eight years later.
Not fashionable. Olive drab doesn’t really scream Wall Street chic. But you can find black or navy versions out there with some digging.
Did my own DIY version of this approach about five years ago. Found surplus Coast Guard foul weather jacket at another Army Navy store for sixty dollars. Looks bombproof.
Which means it probably is. Completely waterproof, heavier material than the Patagonia so cuts wind like you wouldn’t believe. Will I wear this to court?
Hell no. Would I wear this hiking up Mt. Everest?
Put it on right now. For days where it’s coming out of fucking helicopters however? Absolutely.
Another unexpected winner these days? Mall brands. Seriously.
Uniqlo makes an actual useful rain jacket called BlockTech that retails for under $100. Doesn’t look like you’re about to summit K2 in business casual either. Skeptical?
I was too. Japanese ripoff/fast fashion brand fixing American problems? Give me a break.
Had one of my young associates pick it out for me. Bought charcoal colour last autumn and wore the shit out of it last November through one of Philly’s rainier-than-normal Novembers. Kept me perfectly dry, looked sharp and cost me ninety bucks on sale.
Hell, Brooks Brothers – where I spent the first decade of my career exclusively shopping for suits – now makes legitimately useful weather gear too. Their new line of technical trench coats use modern waterproof materials but cut them in classic trench styles. Still expensive at $450, but half of what you’d spend at Burberry for similar materials.
Tried during a particularly bad thunderstorm last April. Kept me dry walking from Philadelphia’s downtown courthouse to my office eight blocks away. Fit nicely over suits without making you look like you’re wearing a potato sack.
Their heavy-duty Shell Gore-Tex is fantastic. Lesson here? Take materials, not brand names, seriously when shopping for rain jackets.
Gore-Tex, eVent, whatever other waterproof-breathable membranes are out there actually do work. Doesn’t matter who makes the jacket. If it’s labelled Gore-Tex, it will keep you dry.
Same with those other lesser known brands like eVent. Get that stuff. Also, seam sealing.
If the seams on your coat aren’t professionally sealed, rain will find those openings and laugh at you as you soak. Length is important too. Fashionable as fuck cropped coats?
Useless when you’re being pelted by rain sideways. Look for coats that cover you all the way down to at least mid thigh. And please, for the love of God.
Fit is everything when buying rain coats you’ll actually wear with suits. Too baggy and you’re slopping around a rain swamp everytime you move. Too slim and you can’t layer it properly over your suits.
Biggest issue with most outdoor brand jackets? They’re cut slim through the chest and shoulders to accommodate active movement. Thus making them nearly impossible to wear under suits.
Or flattering. Compromise by making sure you try these coats on over the types of layers you’ll actually be wearing. These days I rotate through three coats depending on weather forecasts.
Patagonia shell for apocalyptic level weather, Brooks Brothers tech trench for client meetings, and surplus Coast Guard jacket for walking the dog when hell itself is pouring down rain. None of them cost more than $400. All of them have kept me bone dry.
Get this. The Patagonia sees the most use of any coat I own. Not too ridiculous looking to wear to even the most formal of client meetings, yet blocks out every horror Philadelphia weather can throw at it.
Jumper weather? Jacket. Spring storms?
Jacket. Hurricane? Jacket.
Searching for the perfect rain jacket has taught me a lot about what you get for your hard earned dollar.
Some expensive things are worth every penny of that price tag. Highland matured Scotch whiskies come to mind.
Often times however what you’re really paying for with luxury goods is brand name and marketing rather than quality. That $1,400 Burberry will undoubtedly last a lifetime and proudly do so. My sub-$400 coats may not have a legacy nearly as long, but they do everything my beloved Burberry does in terms of waterproof protection.
Yet I have the extra scratch for cufflinks and shirts. Margaret teases me about my “coat problem.” Slapped on her own Patagonia jacket two winters back after she saw how well mine worked. “Stayed totally dry!” she exclaimed after storming (literally) three blocks home from the grocery store. “So your stupid hobby actually did pay off.” Hah! Not expensive anymore partner.
Didn’t have to be. After twenty-five years of wearing suits I finally put together a rotation that works. Took forever to learn, didn’t it?
If anyone figures out how to find umbrellas that don’t invert at the slightest puff of wind please leave that tip in the comments below.
