What is the Right Number of Barbours to Own?

And the pernicious influence of the abrupt cessation of taste that defines our current era.

There is a line of thinking by environmentalists that goes something like this.

“When prioritizing what ecosystems to protect, start with those that have the longest continuous history, because they contain the most irreplaceable evolutionary information and structural complexity.”

You can see the value of this idea, in sorts, when you buy clothes. When I’ve said, “buy things made where they are supposed to be made,” this is why.

There is that synergy between geographies and companies that result in clothing and accessories (and cars and…) that have their own structural complexity, which is unmatched by the global megafactories that are so cost-effective today. And between company and a geography for assurance of authenticity, I would prioritize geography. (Italy not withstanding.)

Barbour is a perfect example.

Barbours

There has seldom been a more sublime sartorial item than the Barbour waxed cotton jacket. I am talking about the genuine item — the Made-in-South-Shields, England, Barbour. (Not the Made-in-Bulgaria or wherever else they may be outsourced these days.) In South Shields, the institutional memory, the muscle memory, the generational memory — whatever you call it — imbues that jacket with something akin to soul.

The Bedales (shorter, for riding) and Beauforts (medium length, for shooting) are products that haven’t changed much for decades, where they still follow the same recipe and perhaps are still made by the same people.