A métis black chambray work coat, made in France, which we date to around the 1940s.
A special piece has come in.
Speak of French work coats in salt-and-pepper or chambray and what comes to mind first is the atelier coat — that neat working garment with its lapels.
This piece stands close to that in bearing, but it does not fit within the category.
The collar is round.
A small collar that describes an arc as it wraps the neck. No corners — and that alone changes the impression entirely.
Work coats of the older years with a round collar are difficult to source in the first place, and the absolute number reaching the market is small.
The clue to the period lies in the sewing.
Cotton thread is used.
The stitching is not uniform; the spacing wavers here and there.
And single stitching — a finish handled with one line of stitches alone, from before the spread of twin-needle mass production.
This is work from a time when the human hand was still involved, before industrialisation was complete.
Now, let us look at the details.
Look closely at the collar and a pale beige cotton thread runs along its edge.
A shade brighter than the charcoal cloth, this thread draws the outline of the round collar crisply.
It may not have been a deliberate choice of colour, but simply the thread that was to hand at the time. As a result, though, I do not think it could have been finished better.
The front has five buttons.
Four-hole buttons in a deep olive brown, set at even intervals.
At the left breast is a patch pocket, cut very slightly on the diagonal.
That "slightly diagonal" is what tells. Set it horizontally and it would be tidy on the drawing; tilt it a little and it follows the line your hand takes going in. An angle born of use, I should think.
At both hips, large patch pockets.
Straight along the top edge and swelling into a curve below, in a D-shaped outline, so that with a hand inside the pocket works less as a bag than as a vessel.
The cuffs have button tabs.
Roll your sleeves or fasten the cuff — either serves.
At the back is a centre vent running to the hem. A consideration befitting workwear, so as not to hinder your stride.
The silhouette is an A-line opening towards the hem.
The hem opens well against the chest, and that difference creates an elegant flare.
The material is métis, a cloth woven from cotton and linen together.
Meaning "mixed" in French, this cloth was once widely used for sheets, tablecloths and working garments.
It holds the strength and coolness of linen while keeping the ease of cotton. A cloth born of practical wisdom, one might say.
To the senses it feels about seven parts linen to three of cotton.
Take it in hand and it returns a dry, rustling sound; run a finger across it and the slubs particular to bast fibre catch. And yet it is not as hard as pure linen.
The weave is chambray.
A near-black warp crosses an unbleached weft, so from a distance it reads charcoal, and up close as a salt-and-pepper marl.
Add the irregular slubs of the linen to that, and an expression arises as though countless particles were suspended within a single cloth.
This cloth grows softer still the more you put your arms through it.
That something already this weathered at eighty years should still have room to change. Your own roundness enters at the elbows and shoulders, and the slubs of the linen rise with every wash.
In terms of a material worth raising, there are not many better.
The colour is "charcoal grey".
A grey holding moisture, like cobblestones after rain, or charcoal dusted with ash.
Across it run the beige cotton stitches, vertically and horizontally. That within an achromatic field only the colour of the thread should be faintly warm is what makes it good.
Thanks to the round collar, this coat never turns severe, for all that it is workwear.
Beneath it, a white shirt will look best. White showing at a round collar makes the whole outfit read a degree cleaner. A striped cut-and-sew or a simple knit will do equally well.
Below, denim or linen trousers alike. Match the materials and you will come closer still to the air of the period.
It is a pattern that looks right simply thrown on, so I would recommend wearing it with the front open.
The A-line hem swaying with every step is where the pleasure lies.
There is no size marking, but I should say it corresponds to roughly a Japanese "S".
The make is compact throughout, so we would recommend it to women, or to slighter gentlemen.
The armholes call for particular attention. They are cut narrow, so anyone with volume around the arms may find them tight.
Conversely, a slender wearer should find them free of strain and altogether flattering. The length is substantial, so it will show at its best precisely on a smaller frame.
There are marks of use, including soiling and fraying, but no damage that would affect wearing, so there is plenty of life in it yet.
An unusual work coat — that is my honest impression.
It has the bearing of an atelier coat and yet is not one. Where a lapel ought to be, a round collar sits.
It fits neatly into no category. And precisely for that reason, I think this coat has a face of its own.
Métis, moreover, is scarcely woven any more.
The demand that would justify the trouble of weaving cotton and linen together has simply gone. And even were the same blend woven today, reproducing eighty years of weathering would of course be impossible.
Eighty years ago, somebody wore this and worked in it. That person's arms must have sat exactly within these armholes.
Only when someone of the same measurements puts their arms through can this coat begin its next chapter. That is the piece this is.