Shooting Times & Country Magazine

The need for tweed

The signature material for fieldsport fatigues is now an internatio­nally recognised brand. Patrick Laurie looks back at the origins of tweed

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Ten years ago, I was invited by a Scandinavi­an clothing brand to cover the launch of a new range of sporting clothing. The grand unveiling would take place at a sporting lodge in Sweden, and there would be an opportunit­y to trial the clothing during a day’s driven wild boar shooting. Everything was paid for, and the agent awaited my reply with enthusiasm.

I was minding my own business in a field of cows when the email came through. Invitation­s like this never come to me, and I had to wonder if there had been some mistake. Decked out in a boilersuit and black farm wellies, my work is usually focused on practical conservati­on for wild game, and my tastes lie very much at the muddy end of the sporting spectrum. Fortune rarely smiles upon me in this way, but I had been writing for Shooting Times for several years and my name must have got mixed up with another, more refined contributo­r. I replied that I was certainly interested but surely the invite would more suited to somebody better versed in matters of style and fashion. I heard back almost immediatel­y; there had been no mistake – “Patrick, we look forward to meeting you in Stockholm.”

The event turned out to be one of the strangest and most entertaini­ng weekends of my life. As part of a team of European sporting journalist­s, I was treated to some top-level Scandinavi­an hospitalit­y in a beautiful old mansion where the clothing was to be revealed in the manner of a fashion show. Schnapps flowed freely and I could hardly believe my luck as I was allocated a seat beside the catwalk in a grand, immaculate­ly decorated drawing room. Models emerged to pout and swagger, and the Master of Ceremonies provided a commentary on the clothing as it was paraded back and forth for our delectatio­n. My fellow journalist­s began to scribble in their notebooks. I had forgotten to bring any paper, and I didn’t even have a pen. Feeling like I was well out of my depth, I tried to cover my tracks by nodding wisely.

It goes without saying that Scandinavi­an hunters have their own sense of taste. We were shown full body suits with ‘tactical’ reinforcem­ents — some of the models looked like astronauts or Navy SEALS. Many of the jackets were so heavily

decked out with loops and buckles that they might have doubled as picnic hampers, and I could only imagine how my friends in Scotland would have laughed if they had seen me wearing some of that clobber.

The show drew to a close and I began to notice one consistent theme throughout all the clothing we had been shown: tweed. Every piece of kit was made from an innovative brand of waterproof fabric that had been printed to look like tweed. The Master of Ceremonies explained that this was a nod to ‘sporting heritage’, and I found that intriguing.

Tweed on test

I’ll confess to having had a pounding head the following morning when I was given a ‘tweed’ jacket to test. We plunged into the thickness of a deep forest where boar abounded and my borrowed .308 rifle boomed cheerily with delight and bonhomie. It turned out that my new jacket was perfectly good but it set me wondering about the ‘heritage’ value of tweed, particular­ly in a foreign country where there is no real history of the fabric.

To me, tweed is a quintessen­tially British product that speaks of rough hill country, natural materials and hearty tradition. It is an indispensa­ble component of British fieldsport­s, and the shooting community is so closely aligned with the stuff that our enemies often use it to mock us. Many people outside the sporting world often struggle to understand why tweed is so important, but like so many aspects of our sporting

when they get wet and the effect can be disastrous­ly chilling. Tweed may be soaking and might take days to drip dry after a good soaking, but it is always comfortabl­y cosy.

When I expect cold weather and bad winds on a shooting foray, I still wear my grandfathe­r’s plus fours, which were made for him in Edinburgh in the 1930s. They fit me

 ??  ??
 ??  ?? Hard-wearing and robust, tweed became a countryspo­rt mainstay in the 1840s
Hard-wearing and robust, tweed became a countryspo­rt mainstay in the 1840s
 ??  ?? Fashionist­as soon diversifie­d the available patterns and styles
Fashionist­as soon diversifie­d the available patterns and styles
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