Last winter I experienced a wake-up call. I’d skipped outside in a brand new pair of suede loafers and stylish-yet-so-ultra-thin-it-may-as-well-be-paper coat, inspired by Instagram influencers wearing adorable slip dresses and way-too-cute boots while wandering around cities that aren’t rainy Manchester. Fast-forward two hours, during which 34.9 seconds were spent outside.
Now I’m sitting in a café trying to thaw out from 35°F soggy shoes and shaking hands while drinking hot chocolate with cinnamon sprinkles. Turns out cute just doesn’t cut it when you’re faced with horizontal November rain, strong winds, and puddles that could house small children. And honestly, Jen had a point.
Of course I knew I lived in Manchester. I grew up here.
Why did I think I could get away with pretending I lived somewhere else?
We’ve all done it—I spend hours scrolling through fashion apps oohing and ahhing over cute-but-quite-impractical outfits without considering where we actually live. I’ve been guilty of buying pieces that just scream hot yoga classes in LA rather than British summers where it rains for approximately 84% of the year. (OK, that’s an exaggeration. But seriously, it rains a lot.) I’ve been in the fashion industry for almost 10 years now, so trust me when I say that I have seen MANY people make this mistake.
Don’t get me wrong—I love clothes as much as the next girl (okay maybe more.) I’ve spent years perfecting the Sarah Miller uniform of blouse, leather skirt, heels, and jackets so that I can throw on combinations without thinking but still feel awesome. But when people get very excited about a beautifully impractical new coat or cute flat suede sandals destined to be destroyed by a freak Spring shower I have to bite my tongue not to point out how they will never truly enjoy the outfit if they refuse to adapt it to suit their climate. Friends have told me about the beautiful white linen trousers they bought for our rainy April office trip to the Lake District.
Sure, they looked amazing back home in dry London—but after three days Sarah refused to wear them any farther than the car because they had turned a muddy brown from her anxiety-ridden trot around the countryside. My own brother bought a pair of suede desert boots recently and wore them to watch his football team play in November. The lad had dreamed about those boots ever since seeing them on TV.
Guess what happened when he sat and drank beers next to a spilled vomit funnel? You guessed it—the suede got soaked with a disgusting slush that melted into the leather and will forever be ruined. James loved them so much he wore them while they were still wet—he actually came home and rinsed them in the shower in an attempt to get them dry.
Never. Scrolling through your Instagram feed will not teach you how to dress for your climate. Don’t get me wrong—I love browsing beautiful clothes as much as the next fashion editor.
But when your influencers are probably wearing a coat designed for the Scottish Highlands as a beach cover-up on their vacays to Miami you have to stop and think: Do I live here? Am I visiting? First up, acknowledge where you actually live.
Guilty as charged—I’ve spent years buying clothes that work well in villages on the Amalfi Coast, not knowing whether it’ll rain or shine when I leave the house. I don’t want to curtail my personal style, but linen blazers, cut-off shorts, and slides are hardly ideal for England’s second-wettest city. When I was sent to Copenhagen for work a few years back, I had a lightbulb moment.
The Danish have a saying—there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. And do they take that idea to heart! I’ll never forget watching my colleague cycling to work from her snowy apartment—coat, scarf, gloves, and bag matching immaculately as she navigated ice and puddles.
She looked fabulous—and not once did she complain about the cold. That’s because her closet was built for Copenhagen, not Charleston. As I came home from Europe that year, I decided it was time for a change.
No more just throwing on random shoes and coat and hoping for the best. I needed to take control of my climate-dodging ways and create a capsule wardrobe that worked for where I actually lived. In case you’re wondering—that’s Manchester.
It rains over 140 days per year. Yep, 140. There’s a relentless wind that seems to come from everywhere all at once.
And if you stepped outside right now, you’d probably find all four seasons. Challenge accepted. Take inventory.
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Okay, time to face facts: how often do you actually spend time outside? Aside from going to and from work, what does an average week look like for you? Once I sat down and wrote it out, it was embarrassingly easy to visualize the kind of capsule wardrobe I needed.
Not only did I spend most days commuting in rain or shine, but by Friday I even struggled to remember what I’d worn earlier in the week. Going forward, I really needed pieces that could transition from stormy mornings to client meetings, rainy commutes to after-work drinks. Think fewer sandals, more riding boots.
And if there was one thing that Instagram wasn’t teaching me, it was layering. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the north of England, it’s that layering is your best friend. Sure, your favorite influencer might look great rocking oversized denim jackets as a top, but when you’re freezing your butt off in windy Newcastle what you’d really rather wear is a big cozy sweater.
Layers aren’t bulky either—if you take my pairing of lightweight wool blazer under a water-resistant trench coat as a template, you’ll get a similar look that’s infinitely more practical. That doesn’t mean sacrificing your style completely though. Some of my favorite wardrobe wins have come from taking style inspirations and working out how to translate them for the UK.
Check out that silky scarf I love to throw on over my standby navy jacket. Sure, it looks luxe and adds some color—but did you know it also has 30% merino wool? Unlike my old scarves made from 100% silk, I don’t have to worry about it getting soaked through when Britain decides to throw us a curveball downpour.
Even my cute umbrella matches my bag because let’s face it, our weather is so rubbish that I’ve had countless umbrellas turned inside out by gusts of wind only to arrive at my destination soaking wet. This beauty is windproof certified to withstand up to 70mph forces, so I don’t have to panic about blowing away every time I open it. Opt for medium tones and patterns.
Bright whites may be adorable in summer villa photos, but when was the last time you took your friends on a picnic in the park and didn’t get rained on? In the UK at least, never. I promise.
Save your pure white linen shirt for the beach. Instead, pick medium tones that hide water marks, and embrace subtle prints to disguise those everyday life splatters we all tend to get. Trust me, I used to own a pair of cream trousers I lived in—now I save them for non-cities or guaranteed dry days.
Which, in reality, means I wear them about three times a year. The biggest lesson I learned about dressing for your climate? Invest in a great coat and shoes.
The UK might not have four seasons like Italy or Canada, but we do have weather that can span all of them in one day. Yet how often do we splurge on expensive coats that look nice or beautiful shoes that are perfect for summer-y spring days? Not very, right?
When push comes to shove, we always choose the shirt, dress, or trousers we’ve been eyeing up rather than something boring but waterproof. I was so fed up with wearing sweaters over my dress shirts to stop them getting soaked on the way to work that I finally invested in a decent waterproof coat. Sure, they can be tough to find that don’t look like something your nan would wear—but once you do, you’ll never go back.
No more wet shoulders on the commute, no more dribbling down my back. Plus if you take care of it, your jacket will love you back and keep you looking great season after season.
I’ve had my bladder coat for four years now, and I’ve worn it at least once a week for most of that (during our rainy months anyway).
By calculating the cost per wear, it’s actually far less than some of the cheaper jackets I’ve owned! Clothes aren’t just for looking fabulous at home. If you travel for work or love taking mini-breaks throughout the year, use your wardrobe as inspiration for what works and what doesn’t where you’re going.
I have three completely different wardrobes: Milan, Stockholm, and New York—each perfected for their own climate and my own personal style. Bonus? Ever since I started dressing for UK weather rather than as if we have it, I’ve had more people compliment my outfits than ever before.
There’s something so empowering about knowing you’re appropriately dressed, too. You aren’t fidgeting with your hair every five seconds, worrying about ruining your shoes, or hoping you don’t get blown over by the next gust of wind. Sure, my Instagram will never be peppered with pictures of me wearing straw hats and crop tops in February or fancy-dress cape coats out and about.
But if you look through my posts you’ll also find plenty of advice and tips to help you dress beautifully and sensibly no matter what soggy weather is happening where you are. Trust me, your future self will thank you when you realize you no longer have to buy replacements for all the beautiful clothes you ruined.
