Sweltering Sweater Weather

Sometime in the middle of August, just as the weather has become sweltering, the sound of crickets has become deafening, and the aroma of cut grass has become incessant, my mind starts drifting to sweater weather.

I have written before in this space of my earnest objection to commemorating seasons or holidays prior to their imminent arrival—for example, the marketing, display, and consumption of Halloween-themed candy around the Fourth of July—but in this case, I plead guilty: At a time of the year when most people are sensibly dressed in T-shirts and shorts, I am quietly plotting the return of autumn and, with it, the wide array of sweaters, sport coats, raincoats, overcoats, parkas, and other outerwear that will again be at my disposal.

To open a sweater drawer or coat closet that has sat closed and tomblike since the early spring is, for me, something like ripping open packages on Christmas morning: Since these garments are, by definition, not worn year-round, many of them look new. Since my supply of such items will have generally been replenished the previous Christmas, some of them are practically new in the sense that they are either gently used, barely used, or altogether unworn. 

To regard admiringly a folded stack of J. Press Shaggy Dog sweaters during the dog days of summer must make for a strange sight, but perhaps it is at just such a time, when the heat and humidity have become interminably intolerable, that it is most defensible to look ahead to cooler temperatures. Perhaps, in imagining a gray, windy October afternoon when I can get away with wearing my father’s London Fog maincoat (“Weatherware of Distinction” reads the old tag), or a chilly November evening when I can sport my William Lockie lambswool sweater, I am willing the leaves to start turning and the temperatures to start falling.  

That is not to say that my anticipatory attitude about autumn stops with taking stock of the current contents of my closet. Alas, I have increasingly found myself susceptible to the temptation of adding fall-like items to my wardrobe at the end of August or the very beginning of September. I realize this makes me a participant in the marketing strategies of my favorite stores: When I receive an email from Brooks Brothers announcing fall arrivals, I invariably click on it, and when I receive the annual Autumn-Winter catalogue from J. Press, I cannot help but flip through it and look for ways to use the coupon (or coupons) conspicuously placed on the back page. 

These stores evidently speak my language: Yes, school may have barely started, and yes, people are still grilling and swimming, but J. Press knows that my mind is on shawl collar cardigan sweaters. This year, I impulsively purchased a Harris Tweed sack sport coat from Brooks Brothers in the middle of an early September heat wave. The timing turned out to be fortuitous, though: The sleeves needed shortening anyway, and it takes some time to find a good tailor these days. 

Sometimes historical circumstances intervene to hasten my autumn wardrobe additions. Two years ago, after the death of Queen Elizabeth II in early September, I was among the millions of international viewers who again made note of the impeccable sartorial taste of Prince Charles. This ultimately led to my acquiring a camel hair polo coat from Brooks Brothers, but during the actual weeks-long commemoration of the late monarch, I ordered the next best thing: a camel duffle coat from Gloverall. Again, this being early September, I had to wait some time to actually wear it, but that only added to the sense of anticipation. 

Clearly, as was once said of me by a suit salesman who knew my father, I am a natural-born clotheshorse. Beyond that, I think what appeals to me about quality fall and winter attire is the way that it provides a bulwark against a threatening world. Where I live, extreme weather usually translates to snow, ice, and the occasional subzero temperature. Isn’t it wise to dress well and sensibly given the vagaries of the weather? Speaking for myself, a Shaggy Dog sweater has never failed to insulate me from the elements.

Once upon a time, I would not have needed to preach this sermon. When I look at pictures or clips of JFK’s inauguration on an ungovernably cold day in January 1961, I am filled with admiration for the smart sartorial choices made by the assembled dignitaries. You might call me silly for taking out my duffle coat, scarves, and leather gloves when people are still barbequing. Rubbish, I say: I am simply well prepared. 

Now that the weather has finally turned, I look forward to many months of dressing accordingly.