How to dress for your actual climate not Instagram

I remember the moment that I knew I had stopped pretending that I lived in Milan and started embracing that I lived in Manchester. It was around lunchtime in mid-January. I’d spent the morning ogling influencers on Instagram in their seasonless wonderland of coats that actually stayed closed, heels that weren’t soaked by the rain, and opaque tights that lasted more than five minutes; tweed blazers thrown effortlessly over their shoulders, camel coats, suede elbow patches, opaque black tights, leather fingerless gloves.

I snapped out of my daydream enough to realise that it was absolutely chucking it down outside and set off for work wearing my new suede loafers and my new coat that looked amazing but definitely did not keep me dry. Fast forward two hours and I’m sitting in a cafe with soaked feet cradling a tea trying not to hyperventilate while double-decker-ing down some tissues. My sleek Pinterest-worthy outfit had been completely obliterated by Britain’s finest winter offerings; horizontal rain, gale force winds, and unidentified puddles on every corner. “You’re such a muppet.” My friend Jen said sympathetically handing me a tissue to blot my running nose with. “You’ve lived here your whole life.

Why would you do that to yourself?” Why indeed. See, I knew how I wanted to look but I hadn’t accepted where I actually lived.

And judging by how many of my friends have done the exact same thing as me that day, I’m not the only one struggling to resist dressing for the influencers feeds instead of our drizzly British reality.

Yes, I’ve worked in fashion for almost 10 years now and yes I’ve seen the trend towards aspirational dressing masquerading as “everyday life” worsen over that time.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t covet beautiful clothes or want to look put together/effortlessly stylish/quite possibly mini Boheme when we leave the house. But there’s something so sad watching people drown/town/get soaked through because they decided that Instagram needed to see their suede jacket today.

Look at how many “friends” I’ve had recently buy a nice lightweight summer dress and pair of sandals then look distinctly miserable for the entire weekend because their feet were frozen/halfway up their legs in bog-water from puddles/the heavens opened and they had to shelter under a bus stop for twenty minutes. Do they Instagram these trips? Of course.

Complete with hashtags about how “Brit summers are the best” and #havethebagbutdontgiveathoughabouttheweather. My workmate Sarah spent hundreds on a pair of chic white linen wide-leg trousers that we wore on a rainy April work weekend in the Lake District. “They’ll dry. They’re so in fashion right now!” She squealed when I raised an eyebrow at her choice of footwear.

Two days later they were covered in splatters from the mud-filled puddles and she’d spent most of the weekend staring at the ground so her new dream trousers didn’t get ruined. My brother bought a pair of “investment” suede desert boots and wore them to watch football in November. They’ve now never recovered from being soaked in lager-rain slush and he’s had to throw them away. “But it said they were lightweight and versatile on the YouTube review!” He said aggrievedly.

Suede boots are not versatile, James. NEVER wear suede boots when watching football. Dressing for YOUR climate is achievable and wonderful, I promise.

It just takes a little know-how. Embrace where you actually live. For years I refused to accept that I lived in the UK’s rainiest city.

I bought outfits for a climate that didn’t exist here; sundresses, linen blazers, daydreams and Delboy sandals with zero grip. Instead of embracing how awesome our British weather can sometimes be (hello ranked second most beautiful golf courses in the world because of our unpredictable weather!! ), I spent years being forever slightly behind getting in from the rain wearing inappropriate shoes and carrying a bulky coat that I was sure to ruin my outfit. It wasn’t until I spent several months in Copenhagen last year that I realised my issues.

The Danes have a saying; “There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing”. And they mean it-literally. Watch them emerge from their bikes covered in slush and you’d think they’d been sat in a sauna all morning; their hats and coats are water-resistant, their boots and coats are shiny from being worn so often, they look amazing.

There’s no sacrifice of style in the average Danish wardrobe. If anything, they embrace it MORE because they accept that British weather. I came home from that experience and realised that if the Danes could make it look this good I could too.

I needed to stop dressing for a climate that didn’t exist here (approximately 140+ rainy days per year, strong winds that blow rain *through* your coat and an eternal battle between the seasons that fluctuate more than the Tory party between April-October) and start dressing for what we have. I took stock. Really look at where you live; how many days are you actually outside?

What are the prevailing weather patterns in each season? How often are you outside vs inside? Once I really sat down and thought about my own lifestyle I realised that I needed versatility; something that could be dressed up or down, keep me dry and cover me from the wind.

I still had to work in an office and socialise in evenings so I needed to look good but once I started looking for those types of clothes instead of faux summer Whites that got worn once a season if we were lucky I started to build a wardrobe that worked for me. Look at the FABRICS you’re buying. One of the game changers for me was realising that not all breathable fabrics are created equally.

Cotton/linen/silk may look similar in a dressing room but throw them into a British shower and they’ll react very differently. Cotton and linen are amazing in summer heat but soak up moisture and take ages to dry so are no good in humid or rainy climates. That silk blouse you love?

Not great if you get caught in the rain either. Wools though. Wool is your friend.

Not only does it regulate your temperature beautifully but it’s naturally water resistant so you won’t freeze if caught in the rain. It’s breathable, so won’t make you overheat in offices without AC and it actually repels smells so you can wear that one smart outfit to the festival and actually have it survive. Merino wool, to be specific.

That silky jumper you love? There’s a merino version that feels JUST as nice but will keep you warm, dry and smelling sweet all day. Don’t rule out leather either.

Treated properly leather can actually be pretty waterproof. I have two pairs of ankle boots with rubber soles from a Northampton boot maker (not cheap I’ll admit but they’ve lasted me four years now) that I can wear to client meetings AND run from the train station to my office in without slipping. Yes they’re smarter than your typical wellies but once you accept that grown adults can wear boots that aren’t massive rubbery-trumps-with-platforms you’ll realise there are TONS of options.

Layer up. I autumn for this one every time Instagram is full of people wearing one oversized coat. British weather is rarely that simple.

Sure, you can get away with one thin layer in the summer but have options. Throw that trench coat over a cute wool blazer instead of your puffer jacket and you instantly look more put together AND can remove a layer if your office is too hot. Thin layers rule.

Trust me. Buy appropriate shoes. THIS is why I resisted accepting Britain’s weather for so long.

I hate living in trainers. Grown adults should not have to wear toys marketed at children as everyday footwear and yet here we are wearing them because our shoes don’t work. Invest in some waterproof boots that YOU like wearing.

Spend the extra few quid on a coat that repels water instead of soaks it up. Wear that dress you love and pair it with tights TWO PAIRS of tights. Anything to avoid the commuter-favourite “trainer with smart clothes” combo.

Don’t neglect outerwear. Coats and boots can be expensive. I get it.

But think of how often you wear them in Britain vs that party dress or trusty pair of jeans. Coats are an investment in Britain. Wear them year after year and embrace it.

I refused to buy a good coat for YEARS because “they’re so expensive”.

Then I bought THE perfect coat; waterproof, gorgeous leather hood THAT stayed up, could wear with anything and have had it for three years now.

Wear coats and boots year round and suddenly you won’t feel like you’re spending ALL your money on things you only wear sometimes.

Best of all; what I discovered when I started dressing for my actual climate? People actually complimented me more. There’s something about knowing you look good AND feeling good that just carries through your whole day.

You’re not adjusting your clothes every five minutes, worrying about your shoes getting soaked or running for cover every time it looks like rain. Am I Instagramming pictures of myself sat in mud wearing a silk blouse and sandals? No obviously not.

But you know what I am sharing? Tips for dressing for your climate that actually work. Knowledge that’s going to save you a lot of money and misery.

Clothes that make you feel confident to LIVE your life rather than pretending you live somewhere you don’t. Trust me, once you make the leap your feet (and bank balance) will never be soggy again.