A German Navy Drillich herringbone twill linen work smock, thought to date from around the 1940s.
A special piece has come in.
Shipboard working dress of the German Navy of the Second World War period — the "Kriegsmarine".
We handled one in the same colour some years ago, and this is the first since.
Let me begin with the cloth.
The hard-wearing textile the German forces used for working garments they called "Drillich".
This piece is one woven from linen in a herringbone, its twill line — known in German as "Fischgrat", meaning fishbone — running finely across the whole of the cloth.
Take it in your hands and the first surprise is the way it moves.
It quivers as it goes, then falls cleanly along the body. It is genuinely fine linen, standing comparison with the best of the French.
And here and there, slubs in the yarn rise as small nubs.
These are what is called neps, arising inevitably in the spinning of flax fibre, and scarcely to be seen in modern yarns levelled out by machine.
What has not been evened out has become, in itself, the expression of the cloth.
The form is a pullover smock, put on over the head.
The neck is a raised stand collar, and the placket is a simple affair, fastening with just two buttons.
At the bottom of the opening, a bar tack has been struck to reinforce the point where the strain gathers.
At the left breast is a single generous patch pocket.
A strip of cloth is laid horizontally above its mouth, its ends secured with bar tacks.
These two parallel lines are the one piece of ornament to tell within the plain body of the smock.
And what draws the eye most in this piece is the drawcord at the hem.
An ecru cotton cord runs the full circuit inside the hem, its two ends emerging at the front to be tied.
On deck the wind never lets up, and in the engine room a hem catching on something leads to accidents.
Which is exactly why a means of fastening the garment to the body at the waist was needed.
This cord is, in fact, missing from a great many surviving pieces.
It is a component that might well have broken or worked its way out across eighty years, so its surviving intact like this should convey the good condition of this piece on its own.
Eyelets of the chrysanthemum type are fitted at either side of the hem as well.
The silhouette is singular too.
The length is cut off astonishingly short, and yet there is ample room through the body and the armholes.
That the back alone is taken a little longer will have been a consideration to keep the back from being exposed when stooping.
This curious proportion — short and wide — reads, to the modern eye, as unexpectedly fresh.
The interest gathering around smocks of this kind in recent years is probably owed to precisely this silhouette.
Linen is the very type of material that softens as it is worn.
This piece has already broken in well, but it will come to cling to the skin more closely still, and with every wash the colour will lift white around the slubs, the ecru growing a shade brighter.
Being able to wear something while imagining how it will look in a year, in two years, is a pleasure particular to linen.
The colour is a plain, unadorned ecru.
Neither bleached nor dyed: the colour of flax itself.
This colour is genuinely good — never as hard as white, never as sleepy as beige.
With denim it becomes a summer staple, while with black trousers the contrast between top and bottom tells, and the bearing turns so composed you would never think it came from the military.
Over a T-shirt, or pulled on over a shirt.
From early spring into summer and on through early autumn, it should prove the piece you reach for most.
The size is marked "2".
In Japanese sizing this corresponds roughly to "M ~ L".
The length is extremely short, the body and armholes relaxed.
Layering it over something longer underneath, letting the hem show below, would be interesting too.
There is wear consistent with the cloth — burnishing at the edges, the slubby character — but no significant damage that would affect wearing it, so there is a great deal of life in it yet.
Inside the hem, the faint trace of a stamp applied at the time remains.
It is already difficult to make out, but it is proof that this garment was indeed under military administration.
That armed forces should place large orders for linen with a hand as slubby as this is a state of affairs that will surely never occur again.
In an age when uniformity of cloth is taken for quality, this kind of unevenness is the first thing to be eliminated.
A garment that stood in the wind on a northern deck eighty years ago.
Tie that cord at the hem, and this time, walk through the city in it.