First Post: My self-costumized "Beaufort"
When I came back home to the countryside where I was born and raised due to the pandemic, country proof garment was (and always will be) essential. So I didn't have to think twice when it came to choosing my jacket. But the tears! How many tears did I cry when reasserting my oldest piece of fine wax-wear, a approximately 90's Barbour "Beadle" I bought about 5 years ago. Even though being sent to repair and reproof once already, the pockets and sleeves where in really bad condition. And as usual with a jacket that age, the lining had worn through at the hem. The jacket had lived a fulfilling live serving as travel and hiking companion as well as storing a not so secret supply of sausage in the rear game pocket - a precious skill when accompanying a fraternity bound weekend-drunkard. 'Throw it away and get a new one - it's not worth the trouble' was the first advice one of my neighbors - a seamstress by profession - gave me. I decided not to. This...