Threading Lightly

Barbours, limes and lasting things

A few years ago, I bought myself a Barbour jacket. This was a dream that first began when I was a young and impressionable little girl. Somewhere between Richard Hammond (my first celebrity crush), Adam on Countryfile, and Kate Middleton on my mam’s Hello magazines, the idea morphed into the belief that this was the jacket to end all jackets.

It wasn’t cheap, but I absolutely love it. It looks worse for wear now, slightly white around the pockets, the wax holding on for dear life. For the purpose of this blog, I just emptied the pockets- producing my keys, a mint from a restaurant and an acorn. It follows me up fields, through town and often has ended up thrown in the corner of a pub until the early hours of the morning.

A few people have passed a concerned comment or two asking have I looked into getting it rewaxed. My mother has called the coat “grand for the fields, but I wouldn’t wear it around town.”

I shrug off these slights. I see it as The Land Rover Defender of jackets- it gets better the more worn it looks as I drive the milage up on it.

A message that all dreams can come true, but also, I’ve been thinking about consumerism lately. It’s hard not to, at Christmas, with the sudden expectation to express your love for people through gifts. This jacket made me rethink what it means to consume things, and what it means to like something because I like it.

I love presents, but not in a materialistic sense; I’m just detrimentally sentimental. I’ve kept every card I’ve ever been given, concert and cinema tickets, even receipts. I treasure handwriting, which is probably why I’ll never be a minimalist and constantly lose my keys under piles of paper.

My favourite jacket, faded but much loved.

Consumerism is part of my life, how could it not be? I grew up in the era of YouTube tutorials, where there was a cosy sense of community watching people tell us which products were in and out. As an impressionable teenager, I somehow avoided the pull of brands, but I was definitely aware of the clout attached to certain products, like the hype that surrounded the launch of the Kylie Jenner lip kit.

It’s Christmas, so I’ll reference my favourite film to watch at this time of year: the 1994 version of Little Women, where Amy tells Jo, “You might as well be dead if you don’t have any limes.” It’s sort of how trends feel at times.

A lot of my clothes aren’t good quality. They are fast fashion, Zara, H&M, Pennys, Dunnes. I love dressing up and I’ve often fallen victim to the pressure of needing something new. A quick fix at the Crescent, usually made of polyester, destined to disintegrate in the washing machine but also release microplastics that will stay on the earth for thousands of years.

That’s where a quote by the late, great Vivienne Westwood comes in: “Buy less, choose well, make it last.” Perhaps the key to sustainability is being sure of our own style and wearing it well, the same logic that ties me to my tattered Barbour.

There’s probably a study on this I’ve yet to read, but it got me reflecting on the idea of individualism. There’s so much against it, particularly regarding the environment. We’re too caught up in our own systems to look at the bigger picture, perhaps exemplified by how much we consume at Christmas, or where we buy our gifts from.

Yet, a lot of our trends and consumerist habits trade on the idea that we’re unsure of ourselves. Subliminally, advertising tells us that this is a product we can’t live without. Adopting our own tastes allows us to choose more selectively, choosing items that will last. That’s why so many people bemoan the micro-trends of Shein, where you can opt in for a wardrobe of pieces considered dated within three months.

The point of this post is that having our own sense of style is revolutionary for the planet, even if, like me, you take fashion inspiration from a Top Gear presenter circa 2008. Security in our own tastes makes us less susceptible to the brain rot that can be our disposable culture, and it leads to a more diverse, fun society where everyone expresses themselves individually.

Now, this post is not excusing stingy people who opt out of buying gifts because there’s already too much stuff in the world. After all, a piece of art or a letter can be treasured forever. I can’t abide it when people use the environment as a front for meanness.

Perhaps this is inadvertent advertising for a Barbour jacket. Maybe it’s just a reminder that choosing what we love, and wearing it proudly, matters more than following every trend.

Either way, here’s to finding the things that last: in fashion, in gifts, and in life.

Nollaig shona dhuit.