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Swaddled, like an ageing ranch hand

Typically, I have a fear of denim jackets. I mean, imagine you throw your jeans on first thing, then reach for a jacket, and it’s denim… Denim on top. Denim on the bottom. Is that too much dude? And then, what if you’ve absent-mindedly tossed on a chambray shirt? You’re swaddled, like an ageing ranch hand in a sarcopha-shit of horn repellent fabric. Yes brohiem. That’s you. And unfortunately, as I’ve just bought a new denim jacket, me.


What the fuck is happening? I’m double-denimed. Is this any way for a bro in his 40s to behave? Am I wearing this shit, or is it wearing me?

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So, I dropped on this Engineered Garments number. It’s probably more chore jacket than traditional denim jacket. It’s cut longer in the body and has myriad pockets, buttons and accoutrements. But it’s certainly denim. The weavers are Cone Denim, badass manufacturer of denim fabrics since 1891.

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The on board details are legion: “Multiple front pockets, branded removable buttons, cord lined collar with throat tab, cord lined pocket flaps and cuffs, adjustable button cuffs, reinforced elbows, two inside pockets and a pocket on the back.” Yeah, I am a sucker for a pocket on the back.

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Anyway, I’m also rocking some Albam, slim-cut jeans and a new pair of Oliver Spencer brogues. I swagged these from a sample sale a few weeks ago and for just £90, they were basically paying me to buy them, in a strictly non-mathematical sense.

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To some I probably look like I’m auditioning for a 90’s Irish boyband. To others I look like I’m off cruising Hampstead Heath. Thing is, as far as I’m concerned, I’m just wearing the best denim jacket in London right now.

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