A French-made "Le Sans Pareil" brown moleskin work jacket, thought to date from around the 1960s.
A special piece has come in.
This one had me rather excited.
We have dealt in French workwear for a long time, but a coverall made up in brown moleskin simply does not appear, whatever the decade.
What remains inside is a small label printed in yellow on a black ground.
Alongside the image of a dove carrying an olive branch, "Le Sans Pareil" runs across it in a cursive hand, with "Déposé VILLEFRANCHE (Rhône)" recorded beneath.
Le Sans Pareil means, in French, "the one without equal".
As a name for a work garment it may seem a touch grandiose, but there is something rather charming in the way that self-regard has been printed up together with a dove.
The name of the town Villefranche is, I think, a word not to be missed by anyone who follows French workwear.
Situated in the Rhône, north of Lyon, the town was known from the nineteenth into the twentieth century as a great centre of work-clothing manufacture, sending garments out to factories and farms across France.
In the France of the day, the blacksmith, the farmhand and the engine driver alike went to work in overshirts of this kind.
Most were ink blue or black; the colour known as French blue was, in effect, the very face of workwear.
Which is exactly why this brown tells.
The same shape, the same purpose — and yet a single change of colour moves its bearing from an implement of labour to a garment for the street.
Numbers on the market really are few in this colour, so anyone who has been looking for one should certainly see this piece.
The construction has the concision one would call the archetype of the coverall.
The front takes four buttons, black with their sheen subdued, running vertically.
Two lines of stitching run parallel down the placket: a genuinely rational make that holds fast only where holding is required.
There are three pockets: one at the left breast and one at each hip.
All are patch pockets with the corners taken off on the diagonal, without ornament of any kind.
Open it up, however, and the expression changes again.
Behind the fronts, to left and right, sits an internal pocket cut on the diagonal. Storage has been properly provided in a place entirely invisible from the outside.
When a garment made for work quietly accumulates nothing but the functions it needs, this, I think, is the beauty it arrives at.
The collar is a work collar with rounded corners, and the cuffs are simple, fastening with a single button.
The back is joined from two panels down the centre, a single seam running vertically through it.
And then, above all, there is this cloth.
Moleskin, translated directly, means the skin of a mole.
Cotton is woven densely in a satin weave and the surface raised, and from this comes that particular quality of seeming to drink in the light.
Being close-set it lets no wind through, and its smooth face gives little for iron filings or bits of straw to catch on.
This is precisely why the craftsmen of Europe chose this cloth, to a man.
This piece, in the manner of the 1960s, retains a firm body.
Compared with pieces of earlier decades the hand is somewhat stiffer, but that also means it has yet to settle into anyone's hands.
And this is where this jacket becomes interesting.
Moleskin lays its nap down as it is worn, and lustre begins to rise from the arms, the elbows and the waist.
Pieces that can be raised from a state carrying nobody's habits are not so numerous.
What face it wears in a few years' time will be yours to decide, by your own hand.
The colour is a settled brown.
Bright as honey under the sun, sinking to a burnt umber indoors: a colour with real range to it.
Because the impression of French workwear is so strongly one of blue, this colour sits astonishingly well within the way we dress now.
Black trousers will pull the whole together, while layering with ecru or beige creates a gradation of tone.
As an outer layer over a shirt.
Or with the arms put through over a knit, as the bridge from autumn into winter.
You will scarcely be at a loss for ways to use it.
There is no size marking, but in Japanese sizing it corresponds roughly to "XL".
Even set against other pieces of the same model, the actual measurements are considerably generous.
The shoulder line drops and there is ample room through the body, so it can be worn without difficulty by those of larger build, while someone slighter might deliberately wear it loose to good effect.
From the body of the cloth and its condition, it is likely to be unused deadstock, though we present it as USED to be safe.
Fine soiling or small marks may have arisen through long storage; we should be grateful for your understanding on that point alone.
A coverall made up in brown moleskin is a first for us as well.
We have handled several in the cyclist type in the past, but never this shape.
Sixty years since it left the factory at Villefranche.
I should like to entrust this piece, raised by nobody as yet, to its next owner.