An ‘Indigo Linen Stand Collar Work Jacket’ made in France, estimated to date from around the 1930s.
A super special item has come in.
Indigo linen with a stand collar. My honest first impression was: does such a thing even exist. And ninety years on, indigo of this depth still remains. I was, I admit, a little startled.
When it comes to French work clothing, cotton twill and moleskin are the standards. Cloth that is durable, inexpensive and can be made in quantity. That is what has clothed working people.
This piece, however, is linen. And not a blend, but a cloth of such purity that the slubs of the flax stand out white just as they are. Bring your eye close and you can see each fibre running at its own uneven pace.
And onto that, indigo has been let down.
Indigo is a curious dye: it does not take to the core of the fibre but stays at the surface. Which is why it blanches white where it rubs. The same principle as the fading of denim.
On this piece that blanching has scarcely progressed, and the deep navy remains firmly in place. A single panel of a different tone has been used on one of the hem pockets, and comparing that against the body will show you just how deeply the colour has been kept.
Look at the making and you notice this was no factory-produced article.
First, the sewing around the collar is done by hand. The buttonholes at the front likewise have been turned and whipped by hand, one stitch at a time.
The lines of stitching are by no means straight, either. They waver a little, and the spacing falls out a little. The very opposite of a machine's accuracy — the trace of a human hand, left exactly as it was.
This "roughness in the good sense" is what keeps the piece far from being a machine-made product. It was likely ordered from a tailor, or else sewn at home, as I see it.
Let us look, in turn, at the details that define the model.
The collar is a stand collar, with no turn-down. A shape that rises cleanly at the neck, and quite an unusual choice for work clothing of this period.
What is interesting is that two metal hooks are set vertically at that collar. A mechanism allowing the neck to be closed further, over and above the buttons.
Thanks to this collar, though it is work clothing of ninety years ago, it settles into a bearing modern enough to sit among contemporary clothes without the slightest awkwardness.
The front takes five buttons. Bone or horn — in either case buttons of animal origin, in an undyed shade, which show up beautifully against the deep indigo.
There is one pocket at the left chest and one at each side of the hem. The hem pockets are set not at the front but shifted somewhat towards the sides, an arrangement seen in old specifications that gives priority to where the hand naturally falls when the arm is lowered.
The sleeves are set forward. The arm hangs naturally to the front, so the sleeve is cut to that angle. The thinking of a tailored jacket.
That such trouble was taken over work clothing shows, I think, the attitude of whoever made it.
The shoulder line falls towards the back, and an arced yoke crosses the back. Both are makes peculiar to pieces of an early period, and elements that support the dating of this one.
And running through the whole of it: white stitching.
With white lines crossing the deep indigo, the structure of the pattern rises up as a graphic design in itself. This contrast is genuinely beautiful. Seams made for use have become ornament exactly as they are.
The cloth has a slightly coarse handle, rather like hemp, yet at the same time one feels the quivering quality peculiar to French linen. A contradictory touch: hard and soft at once.
Linen loosens as it is worn and comes to follow the body. And the indigo will draw out, in order, from wherever you move. This is a jacket that has come ninety years having scarcely lost its colour, so the fading from here on will be almost entirely a record of you alone.
The colour is a deep, sunken indigo.
Close to black in its depth, yet under light the white slubs of the flax scatter and a distinctive mottling rises to the surface. A colour with real depth, which never reads as a flat navy.
Indigo-dyed pieces are few in number within French vintage to begin with, and this is one our shop can rarely source.
Being a stand collar, the collar of whatever is worn beneath will not get in the way. Thrown over a T-shirt is the most natural, I should think, though layering it with the collar of a white shirt showing works well too.
It is workwear, and yet a certain quietness lives in it, so it sits remarkably well with cleaner bottoms too. Worn with grey slacks, nobody would take it for work clothing of ninety years ago, I suspect.
There is no size marking, but judging from the measurements I should think it corresponds to a Japanese "XS ~ S".
It is compactly made throughout, and the armholes are cut narrow. These are measurements I would recommend to a smaller, slighter man, or to a woman. Fitting a heavy knit underneath will be difficult, so worn over a shirt or a fine jersey is I think the most beautiful way.
There are signs of use such as soiling, but no significant damage that would affect wear, so there is plenty of life left in it.
France of this period, indigo linen, and hand sewing to be found throughout. Take any stage of it and modern production could not sustain it. Every piece of that labour would come straight back at you in the price.
A jacket someone had made for themselves, here now across all that time. I should be glad if you would take that quiet luxury upon your own shoulders, just once, and see.
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