“All that Remains: Tracing Barbour's Transport Jacket”
Presenting work for Barbour & SEVEN STORE, accompanied by a write-up on my experience in the Barbour archive
“In South Shields, the winters are long and cold, the summers are short and cool, and it’s windy and cloudy year-round. To most, the northern coastal town lacks any real meteorological appeal, but it was these miserable conditions that led John Barbour to South Shields back in 1894 — not because he enjoyed cold weather, dark evenings and perpetual rain, but because he saw an opportunity to make & sell his jackets to protect the local sailors and mariners from the worst of the British weather. Since that fateful day over 130 years ago, Barbour has left an indelible mark on South Shields — a brand woven into the town’s identity and pride.
Personally, I also feel proud of Barbour, despite growing up 272 miles from South Shields. I was born and spent the first 18 years of my life in rural Herefordshire — a place where people sound like pirates, drink like them too, and wear Barbour jackets as if their lives depend on it. Because once upon a time, they did. Both my grandparents had long Barbour jackets living by their back door — nestled amongst chunky wool knitwear and mud-caked boots. These garments were the workhorses they used to stay dry while renovating their farm, until one day, many years ago, they were quietly retired to collect cobwebs.
I would’ve been 16 when I first noticed the coats. After spending an increasing amount of time on eBay, I began to learn that Barbour products had something of a resale value — even if more spiders than humans had worn them in recent years. So, with my Grandad’s blessing, I dusted off the cobwebs and did what any skint teenager would do: I sold his jacket for £33. At the time, I was buzzing. Now I realise I sold a piece of my family history for peanuts. Since that day (August 17th, 2019, as per my eBay receipt), I’ve subconsciously kept Barbour at arm’s length — maybe because I moved to Liverpool shortly after, or more likely because of the guilt I felt from selling a family heirloom.
So, when SEVENSTORE asked me to join them on a tour of the Barbour archive room in South Shields, a load of childhood memories came flooding back. And it was those memories that made it very easy to say yes. When we arrived in South Shields, it was bright and sunny. The staff quickly assured us this was an anomaly, and once we stepped into the archive room, that became even more apparent. Heavily used wax jackets — showing the scars and bruises dished out by the weather — hung from a series of rails. Walking into that room was visceral. Every crease, frayed seam and patched elbow held clues of a life once lived.
My grandparents had worn their Barbour jackets like a second skin. And it was obvious the previous owners of the jackets in front of me had too. A cabinet in the corner of the room displays everything the repair team has found left in garment pockets, ranging from matches and lip balm to playing cards and lighters. I’ve always thought that a forensic analysis of someone’s favourite piece of outerwear could tell you almost everything about their lifestyle, and this cabinet proved that in the case of a Barbour, the investigation doesn’t have to be all that forensic.”
