The Enduring Between-the-Seasons Appeal of Barbour

Volume 10

The Enduring Between-the-Seasons Appeal of Barbour

The British brand's outerwear is perfect for weird, unpredictable weather.

Steve McQueen wearing Barbour for the International Six Days Trial in 1964.

Last week in New York, it felt briefly, almost cruelly, like summer. By the weekend it was winter again. As I write this, the weather can't decide. From the Belt Parkway on my way to JFK I can see the Staten Island ferry slipping in and out of a fog bank and I'm boiling in my peacoat.

Unsettled or at least undecided New York weather at this time of year may be par for the course, but it still plays havoc with the wardrobe. But it's at just this time that a storied outerwear brand—conceived not for New York's changeable spring but for Britain's persistent damp—comes into its own as the perfect between-the-seasons pick.

I'm speaking, of course, about Barbour.

The brand's jackets, generally, will keep you fairly dry in the rain. The technology is old and imperfect, but what that signature waxed cotton lacks in the waterproofing department it makes up for in style. When it's neither too cold nor too hot is the Barbour's sweet spot. You'll need removable layers underneath, thicker knits on colder days, finer merino on warmer ones. You can never really have enough layers is an eternal menswear mantra.

Then-Prince Charles wearing Barbour in 1978.

It was Ann Barr and Peter York's The Official Sloane Ranger Handbook that put Barbour on the fashion map for more than a generation. Published in the UK in 1982, it came hot on the heels of Lisa Birnbach's The Official Preppy Handbook (1980). Like the preppy version, it's still a great read. Both books put a certain stratum of posh people under the microscope with wit, charm, and tongue firmly in cheek. According to the Sloane Ranger bible, the Barbour, accompanied by a Range Rover and a brace of wet Labradors, marked you out as a representative of the Sloane Ranger Rus In Urbe set, who spent the week in gainful employment in town but the weekend deep in the country at yours—or someone else's—home. In both books, a certain dilapidation—of car, of clothing, even of dog—marked you out as of the good old stuff, unlike the nouveaux who wore their Barbours in spanking new condition and kept their Range Rovers squeaky clean. As the books morphed into trends, it was an important distinction.

Perhaps its ingrained in me, therefore, that a brand-new Barbour generally doesn't cut it. I have not taken to deliberate ageing techniques, like hanging mine in a tree for a season. Instead, I buy them, obligingly pre-aged by someone else, on eBay or Etsy. These often came with authenticating detritus in the pockets: pheasant feathers, spent shotgun cartridges, dog-eared point-to-point race tickets. At the last count I had eight Barbours, only one or two of them bought new. Because with a Barbour, I'm not buying rainwear, I'm buying a slice of history.

Lennon Gallagher rocking Barbour at Glastonbury, 2024.

And what a history. There are many different styles, often dating back decades, worthy of collecting and not, despite the above, reserved for the posher customer. As with any vintage shopping on eBay, it pays therefore to know your onions, and, above all, be patient. There are a lot of over-inflated prices out there, but if you give it time you'll find the right style at the right price, with the right degree of ageing and all the right details.

Some vintage Barbour shopping tips:

1: Barbours were built for the sloping in-bred shoulders of the gentry, so if you have a modern physique always go up a size to avoid sleeves that leave two inches of bare skin at the wrist.

2: Barbours can be draughty, especially in the sleeves, so I buy cotton ribbing cuffs in convenient lengths and suitable colors and sew them into the cuffs to keep the wind out. It also helps with point 1 above.

3: Over the years, perhaps unsurprisingly for a brand considered a National Treasure and inseparable in the national psyche from the landed gentry, Barbour has garnered three Royal Warrants. Knowing when those were granted helps to date your prospective vintage Barbour to within a few years. So, here's a quick crib. The Duke of Edinburgh (1974), the Queen (1982), HRH the Prince of Wales (1987). Known in Barbour collector circles as "the Triple Threat," these warrants lapsed one-by-one with the deaths of Prince Phillip and the Queen, as well as Prince Charles's his accession to the throne. As of now, only King Charles's warrant has been reinstated (2024) on Barbour labels to reflect his new gig. There are of course Barbours that predate the Royal Warrants entirely. My oldest, an International Lightweight (thank you eBay) has an ancient yellow label that puts it around 1967. Boom.

Barbour—should you need it—has a fantastic renovation service at its HQ in the UK which will replace a ripped pocket or a missing stud, matched from old stock that's similarly aged. It's well worth it if you're a stickler for pockets without holes. There are few clothing brands that do this sort of thing and it's a testament to the longevity of Barbour as an idea. You can also get yours rewaxed or even, if you feel up to it, rewax your own using Barbour's canned paraffin-wax, a paintbrush and a hairdryer. Personally, I steer clear of renovating my Barbours at all. If I have wrinkles, why shouldn't my coat?

Barbour on the street at New York Fashion Week, 2017.

When you have eight Barbours like me you're probably good. Although there's still one—the grail Barbour—left for me to acquire. It's the Ursula suit, named after a Royal Navy submarine, HMS Ursula, whose then Lt. Commander, George Philips, immediately before World War II, noticed a crew member wearing a Barbour jacket designed for motorcyclists and had Barbour develop a suit for him and his crew that was geared specifically for wet and windy nights in the conning tower. Philips's innovation caught on and was issued to many crews, even later influencing the International biker suit. But an original is as proverbially rare as hen's teeth. I'll get back to you on that.

Thanks for reading this week's Big Black Book newsletter. See you in a couple weeks. Until then, feel free to drop me a note at nicksullivanesquire@hearst.com.

- Nick Sullivan, creative director

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