How to be CHIC in a SHOWER!

Spring downpours can catch you off guard. But the High Street has the answer...

We British used to be so good at rainwear — we invented both the mackintosh and the wellington boot.

But for a long while, we seemed rather to have lost our rainwear edge. the French can do rainwear — every Parisian owns a natty mac. the economies of Denmark and sweden, thanks to cult brands such as rains and stutterheim, seem to be based on exporting rubberised outerwear. even L. A. detective Columbo dressed better for British weather than we often do.

Our options used to be a cagoule or a huge, hooded dog-walking coat. Fine if you’re actually walking the dog, less fine elsewhere. especially if you don’t even own a dog.

But this year we drizzle- soaked Brits can rejoice! When it comes to fashionable yet practical rainwear, we’re spoilt for choice. You can’t

move in the shops for chic raincoats in shimmering pastel and muted colours — a fresh palette we all crave after a winter of greys and browns, even if the weather isn’t as summery as we might wish.

There has been a welcome leap forward in technical fabrics, which mean that the modern raincoat can be warm, light, waterproof and breathable all at once, so you won’t mind buying a nice one and wearing it as an outer layer even when it’s dry.

Norfolk-based outfitters The Carrier Company make a rain cape in a silk wax (£220), which is a lighter take on the usual heavy, waxed cotton used most famously by Barbour.

Marks & Spencer’s fabric finish means its raincoats are waterproof even though they’re made from a lightweight cotton — essential for when the British weather does that thing where the rain stops, the sun comes out and it’s suddenly 78f.

So why did it take us so long? My theory is that we’ve all been in denial about the weather. May arrives and we all shout, ‘Hooray! It’s summer!’ and run out into stair-rod rain in gingham smocks.

But we’re more accepting these days. It rains here — it’s time to buy a raincoat and move on.

Four years ago, that’s what I did. What I need, I thought, looking out at the rain for the 50,000th time in my life, is a raincoat. It was from the French brand APC and cost £275. Not cheap — but a true investment.

Nowadays I always have a raincoat, and take great pleasure in being more prepared than everyone else, luxuriantly pulling it on as the heavens open (and everyone else gets drenched).

I love it because it doesn’t make a big deal out of the rain. It doesn’t have zips, an emergency whistle, nine pockets, a huge hood or go ‘swish, swish, swish’, when I walk. It is a chic, navy, gabardine, doublebreasted thing and if it could speak it would say: ‘ Bof, it’s only rain.’

It completes every outfit, it keeps me warm and toasty, and it even makes me look a bit French in the rain — and you can’t put a price on that.