Entrenched in the hunt for the perfect trench
Or as close as I'll ever get to one without designing it myself
What's in a trench? That which we call a coat, by any other word would drape as neat
Here I am, delayed again—however, this time, due to actual design work. I’m “taking on a client” for the first time in the form of my beautiful friend, Caity, for whom I’m designing a wedding dress. I sure hope all turns out according to The Bride’s wishes and can’t wait to share more (after the wedding, of course)!
Additionally, there’s always other design work for Villeine simmering; as every time I enter the Garment District, I transform into a delirious jack of all trades (why not pick up these snaps I need before I meet with the pattern maker for said wedding dress and then grab some muslin for that pattern maker and drop that fabric off to her, and then hand deliver aforementioned snaps to the sample room, and check on that new sample garment while I’m there; oh, and grab my favorite gluten free peanut butter cookie at Culture Espresso while I’m in the area)? The accumulation of bags, trims, fabrics, and garments in a day at the G.D. makes for an anything but glamorous experience, especially if you’re a one man band like myself.
Anyhow if you can believe it, I still had the itch to conduct even more clothing research in the background, in pursuit of THE PERFECT COTTON TRENCH COAT. I can happily report that I’ve—more or less—landed on one that meets all my requirements. So let me guide you through what to look for when it comes to this quintessential garment.
Freda Salvador mary janes link here.
For fabric’s sake!
You think I’d neglect the chance to harp on about fabric, fabric, fabric? In my hunt across designer, vintage and small brands, finding this variable proved the most difficult. For one, I only wanted 100% cotton fiber content and almost everything vintage (and contemporary, if you’re not looking to spend $500+) was a cotton/poly or cotton/nylon blend. I reserve my cotton/nylon fabrics for windbreakers or rain jackets; but for a classic cotton trench, I wanted the fabric to be comprised of nothing but the cotton. A refresher/a few quick notes on the properties of cotton are that it wicks away moisture easily, it’s breathable, it’s durable, lightweight and hypoallergenic (and no duh, it’s natural).
It’s important to remember that not all cotton fibers are created equal, nor are they all handled with the same planet-gentle dyes or treatments. Depressingly, Zara owner Inditex has decided to abandon the fashion industry’s largest sustainable cotton scheme; this action coming amidst a deforestation scandal (via Business of Fashion). As if we needed another reason to avoid fast fashion.
Gabbin’ on about gabardine
So I was looking for 100% cotton, yes—but that’s just the fabric composition. A cotton twill weave was the other fabric-essential element to my quest. There are plenty of poplin (flat, plain weave) and canvas (the plainest, the flattest of weaves) trench coats out there; I myself own a heavy duty cotton canvas western duster. But, again, for a Classic Trench Coat of cotton, the jacket had to contain those signature diagonal lines of a twill. Twill weave properties, you may recall from prior posts, include their durability, great drapability, their resistance to wrinkles & wear-and-tear and, especially when the twill is specifically dubbed a “gabardine”, provide that to-die-for Film Noir Detective *swish swish* sound when in motion.
A little fashion history because I am a clothing nerd after all: this particular twill weave was patented by Thomas Burberry in the 1870s. Since gabardine’s debut, the fabric has “taken on an important role in military, active, and outerwear due to its durable, breathable, waterproof, and lightweight nature. In particular, its widespread use by the British Armed Forces during World War I produced the garments now widely recognised as the trench coat”. (via Gabardine Wiki). Push comes to shove, the main call out separating gabardine from other twills is that it is treated with a “waterproofing” process using lanolin (historically) before being woven. Within the twill family, gabardine has the very signature and prominent diagonal rib on the face of the fabric, and a smooth surface on the back of the fabric. And it’s got wayyy more warp than weft yarns. The treatments it undergoes, quality of cotton yarns, and weaving process required to make gabardine add up to make this fabric very expensive. If gabardine isn’t one of your trenchssentials, I found a few canvas and poplin fabric trenches in my search that I’ve linked to below.
To line, or not to line?
This question led to a heated debate in my own head. While there are indeed benefits to each—for instance, a lined trench is warmer—I ended up landing on an unlined trench for extra springy feelings.
Since I opted for an unlined trench, those interior clean finishes were necessary. So, my guy has got bound interior seams within. An unlined spring weight jacket also means the layers you pick underneath it can do their thing more with getting bulky.
Single or double?
I’m talkin’ breasts and just like on a person, having two is better than one in a cotton trench coat. But this feature turned out to be one of my mini-concessions, as I landed sort of between a single and double breasted jacket; there’s lapel overlap past a typical single breasted jacket; but not as extreme as the classic double buttons, double breasted version. But if you have the luxury to afford it and can find it, I say go full D.B.!
Waist not (but please do have a cinchable waist)
And we’re on to the general shape of the jacket. I was determined to find a coat with NO FIT ELEMENTS through the body. This means no darts, princess seams, shaped seams, nothin’; a relaxed fit was the goal. While I knew I wasn’t ready for fitted outerwear (the 2010s Gossip Girl era scarred me), I did want the waist to have the option for cinching, thus a belt or sash was fundamental. If your jacket pick has contrast buttons, I think a similarly contrasting belt buckle is a nice detail—in this case it’s even better when the sleeve openings then also have mini belts with mini matching buckles. The jacket I opted for was more subtle (no high-contrast buttons) and so a sash sans trims was okay with me.
Sleeve me alone
It’s worth revisiting my post on outerwear sleeves (one of my proudest CRACD moments, if you’re wondering) for a breakdown on sleeve shapes and how that design choice impacts the entire fit of your coat or jacket. For a cotton trench coat, I did not want to be thinking about my sleeve as a separate entity—I wanted a relaxed shoulder look and feel—so a loose armhole need had to be met. Which left me with raglan or dropped shoulder as options, (or dolman, but that sleeve design creates a little too relaxed a fit for a trench coat). And, as you can hopefully see, mine is a dropped shoulder. Set-in traditional sleeves will always have a more rigid, military aesthetic to them, especially when you add shoulder pads.
In the trenches with the details
I find it’s easier to get into the nitty gritty when you’ve got your basics all laid out, both in shopping sourcing, and in designing. So since I had my silhouette and fabrication demands, the details fell into place. For the jacket that I found, epaulets would not have made sense since it wasn’t a contrast button double breasted design. A back vent, pleat(s), or slit is a 100% necessary design detail in a trench coat, both for ease of movement, and because it looks gorgeous (so long as you remember to remove that pesky basting “x” stitching, if it’s a single vent).
Though another concession I made was in the lack of a storm flap. I just love a good storm flap, and I think my jacket could have included one, at least at the back (though, this trait would be made easier with a raglan-back sleeve design, wherein those seams are used to position the storm flap). If you are luckier than I was (and you don’t know wth a storm flap is) look for an extra, winged flap of fabric at the front shoulder(s), back shoulders, or sometimes both. The one-sided storm flap at the front is designed to protect from water seeping into the main closure of the garment; whereas at the back, it’s more about wicking water away from the body and adding a layer of wind resistance.
The neckline is related to all the design and functional characteristics I’ve discussed thus far; but it is standard to find a pointed, spread collar in a trench coat…so naturally, a pointed, spread collar is what I was after. A friend once asked me why trench coats don’t have hoods because that’s what she was wanting—which I totally get since trenches are in the rain category—and for that question I finally have an answer. The reason trench coats do not include a hood is based in apparel-history, specifically military-history: since trench coats were originally made for military use, where a hat and/or helmet was worn, including a hood in the design would have been redundant, and could have hindered the wearer’s visibility and movement. While I’m all for a hooded jacket in the right design, I guess I am a traditionalist because I say keep yer hoods out of my trench coats (sorry to my friend, haha).
Last but not least are pockets: for a style with a more minimal intent, i.e. mine without contrast buttons, unlined and lightweight, welt pockets make the most sense. I really need to do a pocket review post one of these days. A welt pocket is formed by cutting a slit in the fabric and then reinforcing the edges, most often used in tailored jackets and trousers. Welt pockets create a more streamlined look whereas patch pockets generally do the opposite. Patch pockets are just as their name suggests: a patch of fabric applied to the garment itself forming a pocket. I give both welt and patch pockets the go-ahead in a cotton trench coat because a case can be made for either look.
Hue be it
I’d be remiss to leave out the color of it all and on this issue, I find myself again a traditionalist. The inclusion of the very particular shade of taupe/khaki/beige/tan (again, the reason for this color is based in military uniform history) seen in a standard cotton trench coat was a CAPITAL component for me. Don’t get me wrong: I adore me some olive tones but stay outta my way in this category, dear greens. The trench I bought is a pale taupe but I could go a little warmer in the beige direction, too. At least for my first foray into a cotton trench coat, it had to be khaki-adjacent. I support a navy trench coat as a second option after you’ve conquered khaki trench ownership.
Lengthy end to some lengthy requirements
I like my trench coats the opposite of how I like my coffee: long and light. When it comes to outerwear, nothing annoys me more than to have a neither-here-nor-there length. I’m 5’6” and my jacket measures 51 1/2” from high point shoulder, for reference—and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want my coattails to literally be blowin’ in the wind! If this trench ingredient is less important to you, I’ve included some shorter versions, too.
For what felt like the first time, I experienced the biggest letdown when searching for vintage garments: there was not a single 100% cotton trench that met my prerequisites. It seems that for a jacket to be of high quality fabric, ethically and quality made, with a modern fit, and in my size, one must expect to buy new or gently used contemporary, and therefore spend over $500. I actually found my exact trench barely worn on The Real Real for freakin’ $134 when I paid $533 :( but it’s an XL—quick, someone snatch it up—linked above, obviously). Some of my dreamiest cotton trench coat finds were in the thousands of dollars, which isn’t feasible for most anyone, and not yet me, at least not today. Maybe if I get hired for more design consulting work, I can one day afford a Margiela trench, or even have my own design made that’s up to my code in every way. But then I wouldn’t get to bitch and moan on here about what a garment lacks.
Until next time, and happy trenching. xHannah
A very trenchant analysis, Hannah. Well done. Makes me want to go buy another one.