When Jackson was about four and Sophie was still toddler-aged (read: destroying everything daddy owns), I experienced what Lauren likes to refer to as my Great British Countryside Fantasy. I spent way too much time watching House Hunters: England, obsessing over heritage menswear Instagram accounts, and trying to justify wearing clothing better suited for English estates rather than a three bedroom colonial in Plano. I think it reached its apex when I showed up to pick up Sophie from daycare wearing a full tweed blazer (with elbow patches).
Elbow patches. In August. In Texas.
Looking back, I’m sure my face flushed red with embarrassment every time another parent gave me the stink eye as I committed real-life fashion homicide in front of their toddlers. (Hint: they hated me.) Now, trust me when I say I get it. As dads, part of our uniform consists of clothing that has to hold up to the elements.
Sports games, outdoor concerts, playground adventures; Hell, we’re often subjected to unpredictable weather just walking our kids to school.
British country style was born out of clothing that could not only withstand the great outdoors, but do so with dignity. But just as dressing head-to-toe compression workout gear will send you to dad jail, so too will sporting a full Downton Abbey get-up invite judgement from your peers. It happened to me.
I dropped hundreds of dollars on what I thought was going to be investment menswear teaching me a valuable lesson. It started innocently enough. I bought a Barbour jacket online after reading about how it was the ideal dad jacket.
Water proof. Wind proof. Classic style that will never go out of fashion.
Totally fair. But then I kept going. Fair Isle jumpers?
Cheque. Tweed blazer? You betcha.
Hurt my back sliding into those clown boots but I wore ’em anyways. Before I knew it, I was dressing like I owned farmland in Herefordshire rather than surviving on watered down coffee and chewed up grape snacks in North Texas. It all came to a head last autumn.
Lauren and I scored a babysitter and decided to go on date night to what was then our new favourite restaurant in the Bishop Arts District. I wore (what I thought was) a nice outfit. Tweed blazer.
Checked shirt. Darn you clown boots. Even added a pocket square for good measure.
Why? Because I was already spiraling out of control and just didn’t realise it yet. We walk in and Lauren looks at me and says, “Honey, are we going to dinner or are you trying out for Masterpiece Theatre?” Embarrassing doesn’t begin to cover that moment.
So what’s the problem with dressing like an English gentleman? Aside from the whole dead carnivorous plants optional stereotype that follows you around like a fashionulence credit score? When you wear the full ensemble, people make assumptions.
About your politics. Your finances. Your hobbies on weekends.
I’m a dude from Fort Worth that troubleshoots software implementations for a living. I’m not Lord Grantham taking an afternoon constitutional on his sprawling acres of land. My “costume” worked against my authentic self, instead of helping me embody it.
What I’ve come to realise after our disastrous dinner date and much closet therapy is that you can absolutely pull from British country elements without dressing like you auditioned for The Importance of Being Earnest. With any luck, I can save you from blowing your weekender funds at the Premium Outlets Loews England collection. The key is moderation.
One piece at a time. Pairing interesting country-inspired pieces with everyday dad clothes that work for your lifestyle. So let’s talk about that Barbour jacket I started my reign of terror with.
Great on its own worn with a standard pair of jeans and plain henley. No offence to James Norbury, but I like to think I have better taste in music than to be caught rocking the whole gig. It’s seriously waterproof.
Been caught in some downpours at Jackson’s football games and it kept me dry while everyone else got soaked. Thicker waxed cotton lasts through literal and metaphorical punches the kids send my way. I just had to quit cuffing my jeans and rocking wool hats whenever I wore it.
The same theory applies to my beloved jumpers. A plain Shetland wool jumper is one of the most versatile wardrobe staples you can own. Warm?
Cheque. Durable? You bet.
Comfortable enough for field trips but looks sharp enough for work conference calls. Love this navy one I picked up from Jenibay. Looks great with chinos and white trainers for date night or just throwing over a tee-shirt with some dark jeans on the weekend.
To be honest, where British country clothing really shines is in its materials. British wool is water resistant yet breathable. Treat your leather goods right and they’ll last decades.
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Wins on both accounts when you’re trying to raise a family and set an example of sustainable shopping habits for them as well. Pay more upfront? Sure.
Will these clothes actually last longer than cheaply-made contemporary versions? You bet your sweet ass they will. That Barbour I mentioned earlier is now six years old and looks better now than the day I bought it.
Been through heck and back with both kids’ schools events, countless camping trips, and the apocalypse that was Sophie’s painting/painty phases. How I avoided looking like a costume was paying attention to textures. That tweed jacket that ruined date night?
STILL lives in my closet but I’ve traded it out for dark jeans and a plain tee-shirt when I want a little more visual interest than your typical cotton blazer. It’s interesting AF but doesn’t scream “I holiday in the Cotswolds.” Case in point: Dad across from me at Jackson’s preschool pickup. Always looked stylish in what I can now identify as quintessential country pieces.
Waxed cotton jacket? Sure. But with basic khakis.
Plain wool jumper? You got it. Tucked into some dark jeans.
Never more than one stereotypically “country” piece at a time, and almost always mixed with modern staples. I’m older than Jackson so I should know better than to judge men’s fashion choices, but it took me WAY too long to realise why Mike’s outfit worked and mine looked like Ralph Lauren hired me to be a catalogue model. Boots deserve their own highlight because, quite frankly, traditional English boots are some of the best dads can own.
Soled, NOT glued, which means they can be resoled WHEN they wear down instead of tossed in the rubbish. Thick leather that can take punishment from playground gravel, football field mud, dog accidents. Whatevs you may find lurking in your garage.
These Tricker’s have seen THREE YEARS of abuse and I can still wear them off duty on casual Fridays at the office. They were more than I wanted to spend at release, but have paid for themselves many times over when compared to the amount of trainers I went through in the same time period. The key to staying out of the English country forest with your boots is to look for pairs that don’t HAVE to be dressed up to look nice.
Try to avoid anything that looks too polished or well, fancy. You want a rugged boot with durable construction, not a boot that makes you look like you inspect hunter’s stables for fun. A simple leather work boot with good craftsmanship will achieve the same effect without trying to be anything you’re not.
Speaking of things you’re not, accessories were where I truly lost my damn mind. Pocket squares. Fancy scarves.
Flagon-shaped belt buckles. SOCK GAUNTLETS. Even contemplated purchasing a flat cap until Lauren threatened divorce.
One nicely styled accessory can work; think leather bag, basic leather watch strap, plain wool scarf. Anything more and you’re firmly crossing the line into “boy hurrying home from his estate” territory. Bonus tip?
A lot of these country-inspired pieces are insanely weather resistant. That waxed jacket sheds rain better than any nylon-filled shell I’ve ever owned. Wool jumpers are cool enough for indoor air conditioning but warm enough to layer up for early season football practise.
Leather goods won’t autumn apart on you when they get wet either. Saltwater soaked everywhere I go thanks to toddler vomiting and refusing to wipe up milk spills like normal humans. Don’t believe me?
Cheque out Christopher Brown’s post on the Building a Modern Wardrobe while living in Florida. Environmental impact and sustainability. Been talking a lot about this at home as we try to teach Jackson and Sophie good shopping habits when it comes to buying new things.
One of the huge benefits of classic wardrobe pieces is they’re made to last lifetimes with proper care. That Barbour jacket of mine comes with instructions on how to repair it yourself and if it gets too beat up, sending it in to Barbour will refurbish it at no cost. All of my wool jumpers can be dry cleaned and repaired by professionals should they need it.
It’s the anti-fast fashion movement and really helps calm my dad anxieties when thinking about the world my kids will inherit. Go a step further and shopping used for these staples makes a lot of sense too. High quality construction means that older pieces will outperform and last longer than cheaper new alternatives.
Scored an absolute killer Harris tweed blazer at an estate sale last year for $20. Would have cost me 10x that if purchased new and it’s already broken in perfectly. Feels better wearing these clothes when you bought them off some elderly gent’s closet than directly from a brand’s site.
Bonus points for killing off the neckbeard stigma that surrounds vintage country clothing. The moral of the story is this.
I like British country clothing just as much as the next dad that weirdly loves watching reruns of Father Knows Best.
But I tone-faded wayyyyy into la-la land when I let my “brand” get the best of me. Taking one premium piece inspired by English countryside living and pairing it with standard dad garments that actually work for my lifestyle. Barbour with jeans and trainers for drop-offs and pick-ups.
Wool jumper with chinos on date night or just throwing over a tee-shirt with some dark jeans on the weekend. Leather boots with everything because they literally don’t wear. Lauren loves my newfound eclectic style.
Maybe even thanked me for retiring that tweed monstrosity to the linzpod closet. Who knows? Doesn’t matter because neither of my kids care if daddy dresses like a hipster circus clown or landed gentry…they just wanna see who can push them on the swing the hardest without wrecking my clothes.
Finding a happy medium between curated outfits and actually dressing functional for your day-to-day as a parent is the name of the game. English country style can be that centerpiece to building your perfect closet, or find inspiration from anywhere else!
