Softshell Mania
Have I any right to call my obsession with softshell jackets softshell mania? History buffs will note the similarity to Tulip Mania, which is cited as the first speculative bubble. Between 1634–37 folks were collecting tulip bulbs out of all proportion to their actual value as future flowers. Tulips are still a symbol of the Netherlands but you don’t have to pay beaucoup bucks for tulip bulbs. You can buy them in the Centrum, near the souvenir shops, for less per bulb than the price of a fridge magnet.
Perhaps collector’s mania, or cultural affinity, would be better descriptions for my sudden acquisition of several softshell jackets. But recent trips to the Netherlands in 2022–23 made me connect this sudden urge to own polyester-rich garments to the floral speculative bubble of the 17th century. The reasons are simple: I was in the Netherlands. It was unwaveringly cold, wet, and windy. And everyone was wearing some variation of softshell: windbreaker or subtle puffer, with linings and inner layers only to be imagined. I love the Dutch, want to be like them, and this seemed a good way to get started. I’d dress for their weather, the way they do.
My October 2022 visit to the Netherlands was not the first. But it was the first to take place at that time of year. Usually our European or British vacations happen in November and December, when the tourist season is long past. But I decided to shift my schedule back a month so that the weather would not be so bitter — as it was during a day trip to Leiden in 2017 when the wind was freezing our faces and chilling our bones.
Another longstanding problem with our Nov-Dec trips was that my beloved leather jackets are not suitable when the day is windless and (relatively) warm. Have you ever spent several hours in a museum or on a long walk with a leather jacket on your arm? I decided to tackle two problems at once by traveling earlier and bringing lighter-weight garments, the kind that rest almost weightlessly over my arm or can be stuffed into the messenger bag strapped around my shoulder. If the temp dropped, I’d pull my extra layer out of the bag and add it to the jacket.
The Club Room stand-collar microfiber windbreaker I bought at Macy’s (for less than $60 with multiple discounts) for our 2022 trip to the U.K. (Bath, London) and the Netherlands (Delft, Leuwaarden, Amsterdam) was a brilliant success. It has an interior zippered pocket for my camera, a constant companion when I travel, in addition to the usual two side pockets. The grey lining is beautiful. And the stand-up collar double-buttons for a good seal. Combined with an old dark green V-neck lambswool sweater, bought from Marks & Spencer in London during my first solo trip abroad in 1985, it served me well.
But I would like to have had a second fastened interior pocket for days when I’m especially picketpocket-conscious. I was never happy with how the jacket fit my pointy shoulders. And the cuffs began fraying, probably from constant friction with gloves. It was also my second choice. I really had my heart set on a Calvin Klein Men’s Logo-Print Matte Bomber Jacket ($129) that had two inside pockets and fit my shoulders perfectly. Macy’s had that one too, but when I bought the Club Room jacket, the Calvin was brand new and sold for the inflated list price. I was told they were flying off the shelves, making imminent discounting unlikely.
For a year I watched and waited, lurking on the Macy’s website, eyeing my prize. A persuasive price cut, two-thirds off list, finally got me to move. The right jacket, in the right size and color — black, the one you never get sick of — was in stock. It was the display model. I didn’t care. I bought it right off the mannequin. Standing in the mirror, I was struck by how right it looked on my shoulders, and noted the subtlety of the Calvin Klein logo — it was barely visible, and that’s how I prefer exterior logos to be on clothing. This jacket wasn’t about CK. It was about me. I had to have it. You might detect the first whiff of softshell mania right there.
Along with the lambswool V-neck from Marks & Sparks, or a Wrangler cotton-poly shirt for warmer days, the CK served perfectly when we returned to the Netherlands in 2023. Its plain black lining did make my arms sweat — I always need a longsleeved fabric layer between my arms and the jacket — but looking great in it made me feel great. Until it got really windy. The cold and the wet I had reckoned on, from many previous trips to Amsterdam and environs. The wind was something else, and it was ever present, every day. I needed something warmer than my beloved CK and I needed it immediately.
But what? I didn’t want to carry around a bulky leather jacket or add another one to my collection of…several. My original reasons for preferring softshell still stood up. I just needed a thicker, warmer one, medium- as opposed to lightweight, preferably with a hood to reinforce the effect of my hat and protect my neck from the North Atlantic’s cold breath. I found it at De Bijenkorf, the Netherlands equivalent of Macy’s, in the form of a Lyle & Scott softshell hoodie, for which I paid $165. It seemed a lot for a plastic jacket, a glorified windbreaker, but I couldn’t shop around for a better deal. The wind was too darned relentless.
Lyle & Scott is based in Scotland, where it was founded in 1874, though it now manufactures in China, like most softshell makers. It started with knitwear and moved into outerwear in the 1920s. It collaborated with Christian Dior in 1954, launched its eagle logo on golf apparel in 1960, and received a Royal Warrant from Prince Phillip in 1975. Sometimes a brand name has a significance deeper than marketing. L&S is well endowed with heritage.
The L&S softshell I pulled off the rack was in olive — I wanted one of my favorite colors to be represented in at least one member of my softshell collection. It was the perfect weight to stand up to the bitter wind raging outside the store, and to seal in the warmth of my wool or cotton/poly inner layers. I was immediately drawn to the high end fit and finish, befitting a product sold at high end prices.
The shell seems to be dual layer. I can’t pull the layers apart but you can’t miss the difference between the subtle satin finish of the exterior layer and that of the interior layer, which has the texture of the thermal shirts that are my innermost layer in the coldermost weather at home. Except polyester, not cotton. The exterior is an interesting combination of 83 percent polyester and 13 percent elastane (plastic that stretches, like spandex). Maybe that’s why the fit flattered my shoulders.
I was also pleased to see the eagle logo, which reminds me of my entire dresser drawer full of American Eagle brand T-shirts. I began buying them early in 2022, when I realized that my newly slimmed down senior body had gone down one or two shirt sizes following the shedding of 60 pounds acquired under unfortunate circumstances. I celebrated my new body with repeated trips to the AE store on 125th Street in Manhattan, where the staff would recognize me — one of them just spotted me at another location! Every time I put on an American Eagle T, with its classy stitched logo, I am reminded of a guy with no class, not naming names here, and think, this is the bird that will peck out his eyes.
The L&S lacked any interior pockets for my phone cam — which I had to start using because it was so much better than my point-and-shoot, and I didn’t want to carry heavy duty photo gear with a jutting schnoz. The phone had to live in the zippered exterior pocket. It was a tight fit and inconvenient on rainy days when the exterior got wet. I was also concerned what might happen to the phone on an extremely cold day, its delicate internal parts unprotected by my body warmth from cycles of chilling and reheating. Sometimes I carried it in a shirt pocket instead, over my heart, or in my jeans, or in my bag.
Otherwise I was relieved not to be quite so cold, and happy with my new find. So happy, in fact, that for even colder days, I wanted to add a sherpa-lined version of it, with the fluffy polyester lining that makes me look like a medieval king. I’ve already bought sherpa versions of my hoodies and the desire to have that option in a softshell kicked my mania into an even higher gear.
The problem was that L&S is a British brand with iffy distribution in the United States. Buying the first one was no problem in Europe. But finding another at home was impossible. No local brick-and-mortar store carried what I wanted, and I wasn’t satisfied with the possible online options. I finally ordered from Belgium, paying for shipping — anathema! — and settled in for a long wait.
The Lyle & Scott Fleece Lined Softshell Jacket ($189.50) is equally beautiful, and I was happy to have another variation in black. But the lining billed as sherpa is thinner than any other sherpa-lined garment I’ve owned. I was expecting thick fluffy polyester and ended up with something closer to synthetic flannel. The fabric also rubs any longsleeved shirt my arm might be trying to slip into it, so it is not compatible with any kind of layering. It can, however, be worn solo when the weather is just right. Think early fall or late spring.
Perhaps I will get good use out of it then. But as I write this, at the turn of the year, it is not right for a northeastern winter. Returning it to freakin’ Belgium would be a bear, and if I had it to do over again, I would not buy it. And still no interior pocket. I bought this jacket for love, and sometimes one is disappointed in love.
I wish I could tell you this story has a happy ending.
And, yes, it does.
You can always tell a writer is using cheap manipulation when he resorts to one-sentence grafs.
I’ve been buying Levis from JC Penney recently, years after acquiring several winter-worthy longsleeved polo and thermal shirts that have kept me warm for the better part of a decade. (Don’t look, the current versions are different.) After days of obsessively combing the internet with Google Shopping for a sherpa-lined softshell jacket, I found what appeared to be exactly what I wanted at JCP, a retailer I trust.
The only problem: it was Dockers.
Only losers wear Dockers. Sorry, boys, if that offends you or your wives. But I rarely see Dockers pants on anyone other than a dough-faced guy who looks like either an incel or someone who charges hundreds of dollars an hour for shuffling paper. And yet, the jacket looked perfect in pictures. I inspected it from every angle, on every phone and tablet and computer I own, which is to say quite a few.
I went for it.
The Dockers Men’s Hooded Sherpa Lined Midweight jacket has the wind- and waterproof softshell exterior I desired, adorned only by a postage-stamp shoulder badge that is nearly invisible on the black version. I like the absence of a prominent logo, because if I’m going to serve as an advertising vehicle for a clothier, I want to be paid. For Dockers pants, I want to be paid double. Inside the jacket of my dreams is luxurious sherpa with a high fluff factor. Yes, there is an interior pocket! Though it lacks a fastener, it is generously wide, so it accommodates my new king-size Samsung A14.
Regrets? I’ve had a few, but in this case the only one is that the exterior side pockets are a little small. They are not too small for gloves but have a little trouble with my thick ski cap. I would also caution against ordering any color but black, since the elastic wrist and waist trim are always black, and therefore nonmatching in the navy, olive, and heather charcoal versions (if you’re fussy about that).
Yet redeeming touches abound. They include a thick sturdy zipper that slides effortlessly — a quality part in the place where one is most needed, as the Club Room jacket has sometimes reminded me. Satin-lined arms let the jacket smoothly slip and off arms wearing long sleeves but arms wearing short sleeves don’t sweat as much as they do with the CK or the first L&S. The little barrels at the ends of the hood’s drawstring are large enough to keep it from getting pulled out of its slot but small enough not to call attention to themselves — an ideal combination. The collar surrounding the hood offers extra neck protection, something I’ve never had in any jacket, but now that I have it, I love it.
I must admit that even the inside collar’s winged Dockers logo, in white against a navy background, looks pretty cool. It reminds me of the eagle in the Lyle & Scott and American Eagle logos. If you wear Dockers, maybe you’re not a loser after all. You’re welcome.
Most of all I love that the jacket flatters my figure, which includes both small shoulders and big hips. No matter how much weight you lose, you can’t negotiate with your pelvis. But when I’m wearing this jacket, I don’t fret about my genetic shortcomings. I look good. And I’m warm, waterproof, and windproof.
The price was just $59.99, marked down from $160 for the holidays, a superb value. As I write this, I see that it has been marked down to (gasp) $41.99. Even so, it remains my best softshell buy ever, and the knowledge that I could have paid eighteen bucks less is more than offset by recalling how happy I felt when I first slipped it on.
There are a few other softshells that don’t quite fit the narrative. The first was a dark green pullover windbreaker with white shoulder stripes. I rarely wore it, partly because I hate pullover garments when they’re not T-shirts, and partly because I hadn’t studied the art of layering. After it spent 40 years in the closet, I recently trashed it.
Then there was the much nicer St. Michael flannel-lined hooded windbreaker (price n/a), staid navy blue on the outside and a sweet bright turquoise on the inside. I bought it from Marks & Sparks in London, again back in the ’80s. It was my first British lefthand-zip garment. I wore it a bit, judging from faint signs of wear in the lining, but not in a long time. The rough sandpapery texture of the exterior is off-putting. Frankly I don’t know what to do with it. It’s a distinctive part of the collection but not likely to be worn in the near future, a sign that its days are numbered.
Then there’s the Trailside Supply Co. rain jacket, ($33.99) very lightweight, in navy blue. I bought it in XL only a few years ago when I was still bordering on morbidly obese. I’ve never actually worn it. Again, maybe on its way out. It does have the virtues of large interior mesh pockets and being so light that it can be rolled up into virtually nothing. I’ll keep it around for a while though I almost certainly overpaid for it.
Finally there’s the Magscomsen bomber ($39.98), in beautiful pale grey. It fits well and the workmanship is not bad for a forty-dollar jacket. The problem is that the zippers — front, side, upper arm — are so shiny and bright, they just about take your eye out. I didn’t return it because I was afraid that the unseen clerk at the online retailer might wince. If I were more handsome or macho, maybe I could pull it off, but the Sad Old Guy with Shiny Zippers Look is not working for me. It may be a self-image problem. I’ll wear it to the shrink and see what he says.
My jackets have a pecking order that is not entirely linear but does have a lot to do with temperature. Dockers is the best choice for cold weather, though for well below freezing temperatures with high winds, I’ll still wear my best vintage Ron Chereskin leather jacket (with dual interior pockets one atop the other) over a thick collared fleece over a longsleeved shirt over a short- or longsleeved cotton T. Softshell number two, for temps above 45 F, is the original Lyle & Scott in olive with any of various inner layers depending on temperature. Number three is the Calvin Klein, for temps of 50 F and up, as long as the wind and cold are not extreme. These are the A-list jackets
Moving down to the B-list, number four is the thin-sherpa Lyle & Scott, worn by itself, since it cannot accommodate a longsleeved layer. That would suggest temps of 60F and up. Number five is the old Club Room, of which I am still fond, though not dependent. I may give the Magscomsen bright-zipper bomber a second chance if I can work through some personal issues. As for the rest, well, I might resort to them in situations where I need to dash through the rain and don’t care if the jackets get stolen — I’ve lost at least one beautiful Avirex leather biker jacket that way.
Final notes: If you’re like me, having plastic next to your bare arms will make you sweat, especially on a humid day or one where your inner furnace is working overtime. All these jackets require a longsleeved shirt with the exception of the sherpa-lined Dockers and maybe the thin-sherpa-lined Lyle & Scott. The only question is what kind of layer, depending on the temperature, humidity, and fit. When I need something lighter, I wear a cotton hoodie, with or without sherpa, or a fleece. Sweaters are for layering or indoor wear. I love my wool sweaters and don’t subject them to the wet and filth of the outside world.
For the record, I still love my leather jackets, though I’m relieved that I’ll no longer have to carry them around on trips, figure out what to do about them in concert halls and theaters, or worry them about getting stretched over sharp-edged folding chairs. For the coldest weather, when even my knees are cold, I still relish my Zele heavy wool black belted overcoat with the Paris label. If I ever have to undergo chemo, I might even fit back into the beautiful grey tweed overcoat, also belted, bought from a man on Orchard Street. It was the 1980s, and he was in his 80s, a remnant of Jewish life on the Lower East Side. He lives on only in my memory, and perhaps that of his great-grandchildren.
You might say I’m a winter guy. But I love being alive and healthy in all seasons of the year, and able to move around in a great city, regardless of the weather. My winter outerwear keeps me from being isolated and shut in when the cold winds blow.
All pricing is online, from U.S. retailers, at presstime except where noted. Even as a rough guide, it may be seasonal, subject to change, or otherwise misleading. Shop around.
Next steps? I can’t think of an application where I would need another softshell jacket. OK, maybe I’d like another with two interior pockets. With sherpa, this time. Or even a medium-weight version with loads of interior and exterior pockets and advanced security features so I can basically pack for a bagless day trip and/or be exquisitely immune from even the most talented pickpocket. In fact, why stop at two pockets? I’ve just spotted a jacket by SCOTTeVEST that has 19.
And another with 25.
And another with 30. Because, well, you never know.
We’ll see. Softshell mania is never predictable.
