Raincoat in cotton cambric in petrol
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£520.00 — ex VAT
Heavily fortified raincoat (or mac, as they say in some parts of the country) made in London, with lightweight (6oz) weatherproof cotton from Scotland, and horn buttons from the Cotswolds.
Sizing
The raincoat fits true to size. The mannequin here, therefore, who is as standard a 40 chest as ever there was, has chosen to wear size M. However, for layering over a few layers — e.g. a suit jacket — then it is certainly best to size up.
| XS | S | M | L | XL | |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| To fit chest | 36 | 38 | 40 | 42 | 44 |
| Pit-to-pit | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 |
| Back length | 40¼ | 40¾ | 41¼ | 41¾ | 42¼ |
| Sleeve from centre-back | 33¾ | 34 | 34¼ | 34½ | 34¾ |
The method of sleeve construction, with the sleeve cut as one continuous panel from neck to cuff, means the shoulders accommodate and drape smoothly over human contours of every shape and size — rendering a shoulder measurement both impossible and irrelevant.
The raincoat is built from the ground up to look like the unassuming mac of British tradition, but perform at a higher level — which is to say to more ably keep out the rain. It achieves this chiefly by having a big chunk of its surface fortified with two or three more layers of cloth than common standard.
The raincoat has a saddle shoulder. This gives it the smart seams of an inset sleeve, but the soft silhouette of a raglan sleeve. Straddling the channel between the saddle sleeve is a panel — it looks like an over-shoulder yoke — which offers two additional layers of cloth between person and precipitation.
Five pockets adorn the front of the coat. One and two are a pair of large pockets covered by flaps, one on each side. Then, three, on the right side as worn, is a smaller ticket pocket, and this too has its own little flap.
The fourth and fifth pockets are in-seam warmer pockets, stationed below the flapped pockets. Suffice to say, their coordinates are precisely at the point for the comfortable in-plunging of hands, and are also plenty deep to relax the digits once inside. Strong, too: the bags are a tough cotton.
The main pockets have a hidden button fastening, thanks to a fly panel built on the underside of the flaps. This keeps the flaps in place, making them more secure when the contents of the pockets is best kept out of the rain, and generally stops them flapping around as flaps are, inevitably, over time wont to do.
The buttons on the raincoat are horn — dark in colour and matte in finish — and each is a little different from one to the next. They are in that regard as if alpha-keratin snowflakes — such is the beauty of being a product of a high-grade natural material, rather than, say, a plastic replica.
A vent bisects the lower back of the raincoat, which opens up when angling to sit down in, say, a motor car or a mode of public conveyance.
Inside the raincoat are three pockets — bringing the total to eight. There's a small pocket on the left and right sides at chest height, and lower, on the left side, a wider, deeper pocket, which would traditionally have been used for a newspaper, and which serves well for the storage of larger personal belongings.
Maintaining its fervent anti-rain commitment, the raincoat augments its full body and sleeve lining — slinky satin that makes a joy of sliding it on and off — with an extra panel, across the upper back, made from the same material as the outer. It means one's back stays dry even in the dankest downpour.
Crisp, light cotton from Scotland, this, with a water-repellent finish. It has a very high number of fine threads per inch, so is smoother, stronger, and, crucially in this case, better in the rain than your average cotton. It is highly breathable, too, and is highly adept at wicking moisture away from the body.
As worn
Him, here, is a card-carrying member of the 38 chest club, and is wearing the raincoat in size S.
Makers of
The coat is made in north-east London. It is a very specialised skill, assembling coats from heavy cloth, and every reasonable step — and the odd unreasonable step — is taken to ensure things are built to last, from the cutting of the pattern to the work on the machine, but without the results being stiff or bulky.
The cotton comes from Scotland, from a mill on the coast, where the making of heavy, waxed, and otherwise element-proof materials emerged in hand, centuries ago, with local seafaring trades. Industry-strength cottons finished in industry-leading ways is very much the order of the day here.
The horn buttons are cut, shaped, and polished by the last horn button-maker in Britain. They continue a tradition — re-located a few hundred miles south is all — going back to the 18th century. "It is no easy task," said William Hutton in 1780, "to enumerate the infinite diversity of buttons made in Birmingham."
