Mackintosh Falkirk Coat
As you reach the A36 a number of options.
Straight ahead, Salisbury Plain, land of movie making.
Right, the road to Salisbury, with its prior offering of a potential turn onto the A303, then Stonehenge and London.
If you go left, Bath, the M4, and Wales; hey even the North– but if going that way, go always via Bradford on Avon, longer but quicker.
Regardless of choice, each 15 yards or so a flash of different green, soil brown and indeterminate greys. Static they dapple along the road yet blur into one with speed.
This green; a mix of our pleasant land’s dark olive, sage, pine, sometimes lime and fern.
That grey; stone, road, sky and river.
Increasing and decreasing but always that mix of brown, grey and green, as you move to and from city and out. It is our 9 months of the year notional national camouflage.
And all of these colours are wet colours. Even when in blazing sunshine, we stare at the sky and wait with expectation of mizzle to come.
These profoundly pretentious thoughts were running through my head the other week, when stood in the middle of a field in weather designed to get me wet. Ugly, fine rain, whipping up, the sort of rain that makes the dog stop and give me the head tilt treatment.
But I didn’t get wet, stood there in my new Mackintosh Falkirk coat.
Mackintosh, Scottish, couple of factories in the UK, the very definition of outerwear specialists. They make those coats: you know the ones with the snappy name…
Mackintosh, of course famous for their cotton coats, from bonded to treated and are the very image of traditional British subversion. At home in Mayfair or Manchester, made in Scotland (or Lancashire).
Like all British classics, borne from a need to solve a very trying problem and to make life a little better when dealing with the very worst.
Stealth suits of armour, for those in power, those who want to overthrow and those in the know.
This coat, the Falkirk, is a waxed, ¾ length, double vented, British made, field coat. The colour of the countryside, with raglan sleeves and pockets which would make Mary Poppins question her luggage choices.
It’s that green, the green you think of when looking for waxed coats. A slightly brown green with depth, each crease and crinkle throws off a slightly different shade. With a Brown cord collar which worn up and poppered for protection and has that slightly unknowing pleasingly floppiness when undone. The sort that comes with a thousand acres and school fees you cannot afford.
All sounds positively country: muddy walks, crap pints and whatever else goes on when there’s bugger all on TV. But never red (or purple) trousers, because no one actually wears those, trust me.
So country, end of story. Done.
Well actually no, because if that was all it was, I’d have left on the rail. Has to be something more, and there is.
It’s the sort of item that makes those who know, do that thing, that thing when trying it on, menswear ballet position number 7, thrown only with skill and saved only for best.
Mirror needed for form and technique: it can only be executed after many moons practice.
You do need some equipment, but it’s readily to hand – if not, why are you on this site?
Throw on some basics, good white t-shirt, proper English shirt (mostly undone), battered slim but not Love Island jog on & mugged off jeans (you’ll have worked hard for those), maybe a thick roll neck, proper socks – navy or colourful as per your religion.
Left arm, insert into sleeve, then right. Slight shrug of shoulders and it’s on. Cuff adjust slightly, perhaps one or two buttons done up, and when ready, slowly and slightly bend the knees, look up and at the mirror to check, bingo.
Of course, if the coat is, well, crap, it won’t work. But if it has that aura, then nirvana will be reached.
So what is it about this?
To call it a field coat is accurate but perhaps slightly harsh. It looks and works well in the field (pub and literal) and the past couple of weeks I’ve worked it hard. But there is a pleasing, almost brutal minimalism. Everything works, nothing is the dreaded quirky extra, instead it is an exercise in only providing the components needed and those being beautifully made and thought out.
From the raglan sleeves, which give full range of movement, whether taking photos or simply driving the car first thing on a cold winters morning; and underarm ventilation holes which like all of the coats subtly branded sexy, heavy hardware make standing on the tube bearable.
The pockets are soft and capacious, when I’m in London, I can carry all I need without worrying about ruining the shape. Thankfully, also the right number of pockets, one ticket and two hip, all riveted for strength, with cord backed flaps for comfort, avoiding that ever so #menswear trend of jazzy unwanted extra pockets.
The shape is good. Straight body cut wide to accommodate layers and allow pockets to be used, it also means that through the simple doing up of a button the shape can be changed, fluid form created. The poppered sleeves, practical yes, also add a bit of shape, bit of interest, but not too much.
Then the fabric, 19th meets 21st century, a slightly techy yarn dyed cotton which is then waxed. It’s lighter than it looks but sturdy. This isn’t boil in the bag, sheep shit shearingly stinky waxed cotton, rather a comforting base note.
A modern improvement to the most ancient solution. All of our most loved men’s clothing tropes wrapped up in a progressive and re-waxable sustainable shell.
A coat not for those who wish to stand staring into the mid-distance pulling awkward, “what’s for tea” poses.
Instead, for those who perhaps don’t wish to stand out, nor, simply fit in: those who know their stuff, don’t accept second best and like to feel good, look decent; those at home in city or country, with sweatpants and sneakers on way to do food shopping or Savile Row’s finest, also probably on way to do food shopping.
