Tuesday, 9 April 2013

282. Barbour

At last count, I own four Barbour jackets, one bag and one cap. Big Barbour is your classic green waxy thing, with a green tartan lining. But I should note that it is Sage, not Olive. Then there is Little Barbour, which is a short, cool waxy thing. Sage again. Then there is Black Barbour, which is black SURPRISE and not waxy but cool and warm. Ha! And then there is the first Barbour I ever bought, with money my Granny gave me, which is Brown and currently in the safekeeping of my friend Matt and which doesn't have a name.

I have used the satchel almost every day since I bought it in 2007. It's just coming into its aesthetic prime and will last another decade, at least.

The cap might actually be Herself's. Oops.

My dad wore a Barbour. In the winter, he smelled of cold wool,  Barbours and Gitanes. An unrecreatable admixture, as unique and weird and wonderful as the rest of him.

That's probably where my love for Barbour comes from. If it was good enough for my old man, it's good enough for me. A coat for every season, and a bag for every day. And that is what heritage brands are made of.

1 comment:

  1. MH is caring well for the fourth B. funnily enough he commented on its smell.

    I remember my pa smelling of whiskey and sump oil (in the olden days before pooters rather than jacks and wrenches were on the scene). a musky, male combo. he also always had cold hands with which he would put around our necks when he came in either from mending cars in the street or from the chilling scooter journey home from paddington.

    how the past via our senses can infiltrate the present.

    we will care for the fourth B. it will be a piece of family history.

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