
Winter clothes for me is all about the materials. The soft hand of woolen flannel; the sturdiness of tweed. Waxed cotton can be a good way of keeping rain off your back, although bonded cotton can sometimes drape in more interesting ways. A plush alpaca blend sweater can also be a good alternative to cashmere, even if it sheds a little. The trick is finding something thick enough.
For the last year or so, I’ve been wanting to get a shearling jacket. Shearling being a kind of sheepskin, particularly from lamb, that has been cured so that the fleece remains attached to the leather (when the hide is taken from merino sheep, you have mouton).
Granted, shearling hasn’t had the best history. Not too long ago, the mere mention of it evoked ideas of the Marlboro Man. Those long, bulky, no-nonsense coats with patchwork-like seams running up the back and tufts of wool peeking out from beneath the cuffs. The silhouettes were blocky and the leathers were often dry and cracked, leaving the wearer looking vaguely like King Kong. As ranch coats and bomber jackets, shearlings carry a sort of rugged, workwear sensibility.
There have been times, however, when shearling was considerably more luxurious – even if still questionable in taste. In the early 1930s, clothing catalogs used to advertise their shearling coats alongside suede leather jackets and horsehide outerwear, seemingly ignoring the Great Depression. The material then came back in the ‘60s and ‘70s with the Peacock Revolution. Swanky men wore shearling coats with chunky turtleneck sweaters and velvet bellbottoms, presumably to their eternal regret years later.
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