Winter Wonders

Vintage winterwear, Patrick Grant's Less, and some costume drama recommendations

It’s winter! Finally!

After a dark, snowless and an unusually warm end of the year, January came with snow and crispy cold – the type of cold that makes the little hairs inside your nose freeze. I pulled out my 1960s black thick sheepskin coat and my 1970s hooded astrakhan coat from the closet, excited to finally wear them. Last winter was so mild that I don’t think I wore them once. There are plenty of reasons to hate climate change, but from the purely selfish and superficial end of things I loathe not being able to wear my proper winter clothes.

The stretch of cold weather we’ve had has allowed me to wear all of my loveliest winter-specific vintage things. I’ve worn my 1930s men’s overcoat that I thrifted in 2024. I still love it just as much as I did then, if not more. The way it hangs heavily over my shoulders is magical.

I’m finally getting to wear the parts of my 1940s wool three piece suit, which was another thrift find from 2024. (I’ve actually been wondering whether the suit might be older than from the 1940s, but I’m nowhere with my research. Dating pre-1960s fashion resistant menswear is still very challenging for me.) The suit is so thick and warm that the weather has to be very, very cold for me to wear the whole thing. I wear the trousers with a wool jumper and fun 1970s suspenders that attach with buttons, and the double-breasted vest with a warm skirt and a crispy shirt. The jacket is so warm that it should probably be worn as outerwear in the late fall or early spring.

I’ve worn my grandmother’s old insulated tweed coat that my mother found in her attic last summer. I used to own a lingonberry red wool overcoat that belonged to my grandmother, but some years ago I sold it. I’ve regretted selling the coat ever since, but to now have this tweed one of hers makes the loss of the red coat a bit more bearable.

My 1970s astrakhan ccoat on the left, my grandmother’s tweed coat on the right.

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve loved wearing all of these special pieces. Vintage winterwear is really something else. The makers of these clothes didn’t mess around. They designed them to keep people warm, to cocoon them, to shelter them from the elements. Vintage coats, especially the ones made in Finland, are super heavy (my 1930s overcoat weighs four kg) and they take up a lot of space in the closet, but when you put them on they feel like armor. Wearing vintage winterwear is a bodily experience, almost like a bit of a workout. Clothes are so much more than just their appearance!

Speaking of appearance, vintage winter hats add just the right amount of elegance when tips of one’s hair are covered in hoarfrost while taking a walk to the library. I currently have three vintage hats in active use: a fuzzy faux-fur one from the 1960s that I thrifted last year, a wool one that’s more dressy, with black onyx ornaments, also from the 1960s, and a really warm sheepskin one, from the 1970s. I’m fascinated how wearing a proper hat makes you walk taller, just like a pair of high heels would.

On the topic of winter shoes, my new lace-up boots have decent traction, but even with a thermal insole, they are not warm enough to wear when it’s -15 degrees Celsius (that’s about 5 degrees Fahrenheit). I’ve worn my insulated made in Finland Pomar boots instead. They are not exactly stylish, but this type of cold is quite rare, and I can live with them.

In other news, I finally got my hands on Patrick Grant’s book Less – Stop Buying So Much Rubbish: How Having Fewer, Better Things Can Make Us Happier (2024). The book is a sharp critique of consumerism, and it discusses, among other things, the wider, more universal themes of quality, happiness, and the nature of work, while dissecting and explaining the collapse of the textile and garment industries of the United Kingdom in the last handful of decades. Even though things seem murky and depressing, Grant offers us some hope, too. If we choose to, we can climb out of the hole we have dug for ourselves. The fundamental message is more or less stated in the title of the book: buy less, buy better, buy local, whenever you can. We can all do our part.

Before I log off, I have some film recommendations for you. Not long ago I came across a bunch of costume drama DVDs at a flea market.

I bought and watched the following:

• Lady Jane (dir. Trevor Nunn, 1986)

Very average, but has beautiful costumes, and young Helena Bonham-Carter is always lovely to watch.

• The Bostonians (dir. James Ivory, 1984)

Vanessa Redgrave is magnificent, the costumes sublime. This is a Merchant Ivory production, so it’s pretty much guaranteed to be a feast for the eyes.

• The Portrait of a Lady (dir. Jane Campion, 1996)

Better than its reputation, I thought. Great looking film, and Barbara Hershey is wonderful in it.

That’s all I have today. I hope your 2026 is off to a good start!

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