We’ve all been there. British summertime arrives, the mercury reaches a promising 22 degrees, and suddenly everyone loses their collective shit. I’ve experienced it personally, just last week.
Picture me taking a stroll around town and mentally documenting everyone else’s collective lapse of memory when it comes to remembering what hot weather actually feels like. Men shrugging on Bermuda shorts they haven’t been seen since last summer (2019, probs) and legs so pasty they could’ve doubled as a dockworker. Women rocking cotton sundresses as if frostbite were merely a style statement.
And my favourite -the dude who’s wearing a full-on wool suit because don’t-even-gets-we-are-in-summer, but also sweatervising so profusely that you know what he’s got hiding underneath that untucked shirt is pure chaos. There’s also the British Summer compromise of sandals, shorts, and a hoodie.
We just don’t trust it, y’all.
No one thinks this shit is actually gonna last. Truth is I get it. Mother Nature gives us about a week of actual summer weather before you realise she’s really just Britney bitch-slapping us with hayfever and torrential downpours all over again.
June through August in the UK is basically that weirdo who slides into your DMs then doesn’t talk to you for three weeks straight. You think something’s happening, and then she hits you with 15 degrees and horizontal rain in July like it’s no big frickin’ deal. AGAIN.
If there’s one thing my decades-long relationship with summer dressing has taught me, it’s that riding this proverbial wave takes practice. Like anything. When I was younger I went through that “I live in LA even though I actually live in England” phase.
Button-up linen shirts that I rolled up to my boobs, cropped everywhere, cargo shorts, plimsolls sans socks. Yacht shit. Spoiler alert: looked foolish.
I’d leave the house smelling like Ocean Mojitos and fresh linen and arrive home smelling like a fermented grass blanket who also got grimily stuck to by way too many neon raincoats that I swore at mid-transit. What followed was my period of serious overcompensation. Afraid of ever getting burned by the false promise of “summer” again (seriously, British weather screwed me hard in 2016), I did the complete opposite and basically started wearing quilted jackets in June.
I LOL’d. *at* *myself* when Britain inevitably did it’s thing and decided summer was over again, AND I WAS WAAAARMMMERED. (For real, I melted.) I’m much smarter now. Been there, done that. You wanna know my British summer sweet spot?
Versatile-yet-distinct pieces that could double for at least two types of weather, always having a backup plan, and keeping a decent jacket with me at all times. Car, work, you should just tattoo one to your body at this point. Case in point: overshirts.
Half jacket, slightly more than a shirt. Perfect for our transitional-as-fuck summer climate. I picked up this navy, linen/cotton blend number from Universal Works a few years back and it’s been my go-to/secret weapon ever since.
Seriously. Sun’s out? Throw it over a tee and call it a day.
Clouds come swaggering in to ruin all your fun like they own the place? Button up and now you’ve got arm coverage with zero judgement. Bam.
Where summer clothes really get me at though is the trouser conundrum. Shorts = commitment. Not unlike skinny jeans at this point, there’s something very psychological about opting for bare legs when you live in a country that mocks you at every opportunity for daring to think it’ll actually be nice out.
How many times have I rolled up to a sudden raincloud/beer garden/moment of British summer perfection pantless only to end up petrified/smurf/blue? Too many, my friends. So now, my go-to?
Lightweight chinos or drawstring trousers in something breathable. These ones from Albam are next level, garment-dyed so they look badass rolled up when the temps legitimately warm up but aren’t fucking ugly as sin rolled all the way down like British summer often makes you want to do. Shoes though.
Summer shoes are tricky. Shoes that match shorts. Shoes that work with trousers.
Footwear you can run indoors in when sudden downpours decide to pour. ALL. THE.
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THINGS. But also shoes that don’t give you swamp foot when the temperature reaches a ‘haven’t felt this kinda hot in years! !’ 25 degrees. I’m borderline obsessed with my Paraboot Michaels right now.
Chunky enough not to look weird with shorts yet still rain-appropriate, rubber sole so you don’t feel bad about tromping through puddles. Yeah they’re a bitch to buy because they’re pricey as hell, but I’ve had them resoled twice and they’re still holding strong at eight years old. Break that cost down by wear and these guys are basically giving shoes away.
Now if you really want to embrace how utterly British summer dressing is, just mimic me and wear a backpack containing half your wardrobe everywhere you go. Lightweight sweater? Check.
Packable rain jacket? Check. Backup pair of shoes?HECK YEAH I GOT YOU BRO.
Emma laughs at me about this -she’s Californian, where they apparently get something known as ‘consistent weather’- but trust me, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. When it comes to preparing for British summertime, we are the Lewis Carroll’s of outfit combo planning. The key is making sure none of your backups are actually noticeable as backups.
You don’t wanna look like you’ve just BrANDED half your closet onto yourself “just in case.” Ol’ British Summer loves nothing more than throwing you a curveball, which is why the best summer pieces in your wardrobe should LOOK like summer but perform like you’re about to scale K2. Uniqlo’s merino wool sweaters are freaking heaven for this. Lightweight enough to throw on over a tee but warm enough to actually ACT as a sweater when that aforementioned beer garden suddenly becomes blasted by chilly winds at 8PM.
Bonus points if you can layer in a hoody under there too. From there I try to focus on as many wardrobe options that could *legitimately* work for both scenarios. Pants that look decent rolled up, button-downs with sleeves that can do double-duty, jackets that fold into themselves like Lovecraftian nightmares.
You get the idea. Colour is another puzzle. We wanna embrace summer, but British Summer will dunk your brightest whites and pale blues in mud then laugh as you walk aroundhighlighting every raincloud splatter and spilled latte for the next month.
These days I gravitate towards less saturated summer colours. Sage greens instead of bright green, burnt orange vs neon green, navy instead of royal. You get enough of a summer vibe to keep you happy without advertising to the world every time it decides to be British AF at you.
Last summer we got a whole WEEK of uninterrupted British summer. Actual summertime. Shorts weather.
Sun weather. Bikini-top-inside-my-shirt weather. Fuck me alive if that ain’t the best way to describe it.
I basically threw all the previous rules out the damn window and went full summer babe. Linen shirts, slim-fit shorts, leather sandals. Life was good.
I felt carefree wandering around Portland that day, soaking up every ounce of Britain-deservedly-serving-us-right-for-not-visiting-Europa weather I could get. For a minute there, I legit thought we were pioneers. Tropical island Devon revolutionaries taking down the man by wearing skirts UP TO OUR KNEES.
Pffft. Give me strength. The next day it poured.
And there I was -slickers and all- trudging my way to a client meeting in actual summer attire while my befuddledcontact sported a perfectly adequate light wool blazer. She eyed me up and down like I was some sort of investment banker refugee from an Apocalypse-esque future where people actually dressed for weather emergencies instead of one-day forecasts. “Didn’t you see the weather?” She asked with an incredulous sigh. Internally I facepalmed so hard she could’ve felt it across Gloucester.
She wasn’t wrong, y’know?
WE DON’T DO SUMMER RIGHT HERE. I’ve sat outside of pubs dressed in what can only be described as ‘mild precipitation’ and debated with fellow sufferers about whether or not ‘it’s actually nice out’ WHILE FREEZING MY ASS OFF simply because fuck it, IT’SSUMMER AND WE’RE ENJOYING IT.
For better or worse, dressing for British Summer is a punishment we willingly give ourselves. I’ve compiled a pretty extensive list over the years. Clothes that double but don’t look like they double.
Quick dry everything. Clothes in muted summer tones that won’t show rain spots. Hell, layers upon layers of backups, because you just never know.
TL;DR? Layer smart, stay dry, but most importantly HAVE A BACKUP PLAN. Shoes optional.
