How the Barbour became the quintessential British symbol

And the Barbour has become increasingly popular in the US in recent years – an article in The Spectator by an American writer describes “How the Barbour Cracked America”. It has increasingly been seen on TV screens in episodes of Succession – sported primarily by patriarch Logan Roy – Industry, and, most notably, The Crown.

Traditionally, the brand is synonymous with the British upper classes, a must-have for hunting on horseback alongside Land Rover and Hunter wellington boots. It shares a similar cachet to Burberry or Harris Tweed – a sign of class, history, heritage and quality. But Barbour’s trajectory is nuanced and his appeal is now much wider.

Rural origins

Founded by Scotsman John Barbour in 1894 in the South Shields of Newcastle, the brand began strictly as utilitarian clothing for the countryside, for hunting and fishing. There were pockets for storing game cartridges, the “thorn-proof” wax coating for scrambling through the hostile bramble countryside, and some versions even had a roomy “game pocket” with enough space for a whole pheasant. Another style is cut short for easy riding.

Jackets develop a shabby patina over time, giving them a charming, disheveled character – there’s traditionally a cachet attached to the well-worn Barbour. They also give off an unmistakable musty smell, emanating from the wax coating.

In 1972 Dame Margaret Barbour took over the family business and introduced new styles. And soon after, when the future Princess Diana entered the public consciousness, the golden age of the Barbour followed. Young Lady Diana Spencer helped popularize the garment in the late 1970s and early 80s, and the jacket became an abbreviated, staple item of clothing for the Sloane Ranger, who, like his preppy counterpart in the United States, was becoming an increasingly recognizable tribe. The popular The Official Sloane Ranger Handbook by Peter York and Ann Barr sealed the Sloane’s unmistakable identity. Diana in her Barbour and her pearls was Sloane’s poster.

As the Sloane ethos (polo, pearls, champagne, white privilege) fell out of favor, it wasn’t long before the Barbour look was back in fashion – this time via that bastion of Britishness, the Glastonbury Festival; it quickly became the unofficial uniform for muddy festival rides, often paired with wellies and a mini dress. In 2013 it girl Willowy and Glastonbury fan Alexa Chung collaborated with the brand to create jackets with a dash of Alexa flair, and the partnership continues – the most recent collection was inspired by Glastonbury in the 1990s. Chung told Vogue last year, “I guess we all long for a moment before everything is a performance, and my preoccupation with practical things worn alongside more frivolous things is on full display at a festival of music.”

In 2020, the brand made a bold transition from rural to urban when – like other “heritage” fashion houses – it dipped its toes into streetwear. The collaboration with skate label-turned-fashion-central influencer Supreme, with a range of waxed cotton jackets and accessories, was a game-changer for Barbour – but somehow it worked. . Another unlikely alliance happened last year, when cool Scandi-chic label Ganni teamed up with the heritage brand. Waxed cotton raincoats were adorned with a common logo, and plaid quilted coats and bucket hats that Vogue says feature a “cool-girl” look. Ganni X Barbour also included a “re-loved” offer, featuring 50 upcycled and reworked jackets.

Sustainable luxury

It is this re-loved aspect of the Barbour jacket that is perhaps most important of all in terms of continued relevance. The brand recently launched its Wax for Life initiative, a service that will re-wax, repair or customize your existing Barbour. These are, after all, jackets that last forever – the more worn they look, the better. Eco-conscious King Charles wore his Barbour for decades; Queen Elizabeth wore hers for 25 years and turned down a new one offered by the brand for her recent Jubilee.

At Barbour’s headquarters in Newcastle, an archive features jackets dating back decades. Menswear director Ian Bergin recently told Elle: “The way jackets have evolved from a design point of view, they’re quite understated, so they’re very easy to wear…Because they’re inherently designed for a purpose, they tend to last a long time in terms of trending, so they cut through what I think is the most important factor in [the sustainability] sense.”

There is a sense of longevity and understated, understated luxury that goes with Barbour’s status as a family business passed down from generation to generation. From country Englishwoman to urban skate kid; from the Queen to Steve McQueen; from the muddy, elite polo field to the muddy, egalitarian festival ground; from 19th century hunting and fishing to 21st century recycling, the Barbour has quite the journey. It’s the perfect gift for soft power, gently alluding to many different, hard-to-define qualities – history, consistency, functionalism, longevity, family, modernity, freshness, sustainability – and a hopeful look at the coming.

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